Vengeance Be Mine
by KISS1971
Summary: A mad man from Ranger's past resurfaces forcing him to reveal all his secrets and fears to Stephanie. Stephanie must under go drastic changes if she is to help Ranger stop this lunatic, and give them a chance at a happy life. BABE story & HEA hopefully!
1. Prologue: Two Blue Lines

**Although I am not new to fan fiction, this is my first Stephanie Plum fic. Just a little about my style and then I'll shut up and let you read. I like AU, if I wanted to speculate on what Janet was going to do, I would just wait and read the novel. So I don't always hold to cannon, and my portrayal of the characters will be different.**

**There will be smut, so the rating on this will change and I will let you know at the beginning of the chapter if there will be smut. I like reviews, what author doesn't? I know most people don't leave reviews, but they help to gauge people's interest. So if you get a chance, please leave a review. **

Prologue: Two Blue Lines

For Stephanie Plum, it was hard to imagine the road her life had taken when two blue lines had appeared in the window of a plastic pee stick. She had stared at that innocuous piece of plastic and felt her world crumbling around her, the sense of impending doom on the horizon. She wasn't ready to be a mother; and she definitely wasn't ready to be Joe Morelli's wife. A voice in the back of her head had whispered that it might not be Joe's baby; would she be ready to be a mother then? She had squashed that thought as quickly as it had surfaced.

She had managed to keep her pregnancy a secret from everyone for close to four months. The only person not fooled had been Tank, oddly enough. She hadn't completely given up being a bounty hunter, she just went about it in a different way. And that way had her back at Rangeman, and under Tank's watchful eyes. When he had finally broached the subject with her, Stephanie hadn't even try to deny it; she had become so weary of the secrecy it was a relief that some one else knew. The one thing she had asked Tank, was if he had told Ranger.

Stephanie had known that Tank wouldn't keep secrets from their respective boss, so it had come as a bit of a shock when he had replied that up til then he had said nothing to no one. He was giving her the chance to tell Ranger herself, and he would only give her until the following morning; after that all bets were off. She had shook her head, realizing that her time was up, and promised she would tell Ranger when he came back that evening. He would be the first person she actually told; there had to be some irony in that.

Before he had let her go, Tank had asked one question, _"Whose baby?"_

Stephanie's laugh had been brittle, and she had looked at Tank and replied, _"Would it make a difference?"_

With a shrug of his shoulders he had said, _"Maybe, maybe not."_

Several hours later, she had let herself into Ranger's seventh floor apartment, wolfed down two sandwiches, taken a shower, dressed in a pair of black lace panties and one of Ranger's black t-shirts, slipped between the cool sheets of his bed and let exhaustion claim her.

Stephanie had come awake the moment Ranger had entered into the apartment. She had listened as he tossed his keys in the bowl, turned off the lights and slip into the darkened bedroom. She had felt the warm caress of his gaze as he took in the fact that she was in his bed, and his muttered, _"Thank you God," _had brought her a surge of satisfaction.

She had felt him move around the room, gathering items, and then the sound of the shower being turned on. She had let the sound of running water lull her into a light doze, while she waited for Ranger to join her.

Awareness had rippled through her when Ranger pulled the covers back and got into bed, pulling her against him. She had sighed when his arms circled her and he placed a light kiss behind her ear. His hands had been pure magic when he cupped her breasts. Desire had raced through her, as his hands moved down her sides and slipped beneath the black t-shirt she wore. She had waited, eyes tightly, closed, heart hammering against her chest, her breathing shallow and quick.

"I'm guessing we need to talk," he said, his hands caressing the slight baby bulge.

"Only if you want to."

"Morelli will be thrilled."

The silence had lingered in the wake of Ranger's last statement. Stephanie wanted to believe she heard regret in his voice, but more likely than not, it had been her imagination.

"I don't know how this happened," she said, breaking the silence. "I mean, I know HOW it happened, but we were always careful, always used some sort of protection."

"Nothing is ever 100% guaranteed," he replied. "Even we slipped up once."

"What do you mean?" Stephanie asked, turning in his arms so that she faced him.

"The Abigail Drake incident," he answered. "Babe, don't tell me you forgot."

_No, she hadn't forgotten. Stephanie had been absolutely enraged when she saw the raven haired heiress, Abigail Drake clinging to Ranger, like they were long lost friends (or lovers). She had no right to be angry, Ranger wasn't hers; but that didn't stop the fury that had exploded within her. She made a couple of scathing remarks to him, and stormed away. She hadn't missed the look of suppressed anger that briefly flared in his dark eyes, or the triumphant look from the bitch._

_Stephanie had driven around Trenton, anger dogging her every step. She tried chasing down her FTAs and ended up covered in noodles with sesame sauce, one shoe missing, torn jeans and her car on cinder blocks, all four tires gone. Her visit to get the Buick had grated on nerves already stretched to thin, and she left before she said something she would later regret; and she left without cake. _

_She had showered and changed at her parent's, but nothing was helping to ease her fury. Her and Morelli were on one of their off cycles; still she thought about swinging by his place and picking a fight with him as a way to burn off some of the rage. Instead she headed for Rangeman. She was angry with Ranger (and herself); if she was going to get into a fight with anyone, it was going to be him._

_She had been surprised when she was allowed to pull into the underground garage. She thought he would have denied her access; but maybe he was spoiling for a fight as well. The anger had her so worked up, that she fidgeted and paced in the small confines of the elevator, and she didn't take the opportunity to wave a the camera. Upon reaching seven, she bolted out of the small space and slammed into his apartment, ready for round one._

_Ranger must have been ready for round one as well, because as she stormed into the apartment, he strode from his bedroom, body bristling and dark eyes trained on her. Stephanie faltered for a second, Ranger never did, and he walked to her, backing her against the wall. Too late she saw that along with anger, he was also burning with desire._

"_How dare you," Stephanie had started to say, but she got no further than that._

"_How dare I indeed," he had replied, his voice soft and filled with both threats and promises. _

_After that no words were necessary. Ranger had taken her mouth in a fiercely possessive kiss, lifted her off the floor and wrapped her legs around his waist. He took her against the wall in a frenzy, shredding their clothes in his haste to get them both naked. Neither stopped to think about protection, and Ranger surged into her in one long stroke; sans condom._

Well damn! She hadn't seen that coming. The Abigail Drake incident had shaken both of them so badly. They had spent the whole night completely wrapped within each other, letting the outside world take care of itself. When Stephanie woke the next morning, Ranger was gone; and he stayed gone for damn near six weeks. She had gone back to Morelli two days later.

"The timing from the incident is off," she had informed him. She did a quick calculation in her brain, and realized that it was off, but not by much. Still, the chances were slim and the odds were heavily in Joe's favor.

"Babe, I'll want to know," Ranger had said against her ear.

"What about no attachments, no strings, no relationships?" Stephanie had asked him.

"We don't always get what we want," had been his reply. "Joe will give you the life you want; the one you grew up wishing for. But passing my child off as his; that's not acceptable to me."

It had been difficult for Stephanie to keep Ranger at arms length, and once she told Joe, the animosity between the two alpha males intensified. Joe had wanted marriage, wanted Stephanie to stay home; he had wanted the whole nine yards. She had conceded some things; she had moved in to his house, finally giving up her apartment. She would temporarily give up going after FTAs; but she refused to stop working. That had caused arguments, and when he had realized that she was working for Ranger, the war between those two exploded.

She hadn't told Joe there was an extremely small chance that the baby was not his, but he had seemed to sense it, and it had eaten at him. He had taken solace in the fact that she was with him; that she was planning her future with his. It also helped that Ranger seemed to disappear; he was always on some business that took him away from Trenton, kept him away from Stephanie. Joe would thank whatever force was making that happen.

All the way up to the delivery, Stephanie had been plagued with doubts. She had no clue what she was doing, if this was what she really wanted. She had put on a brave front, especially for Joe; but she missed Ranger, and his constant absence was like an open wound.

Nothing had prepared her for the moment when a red faced, squalling eight pound baby boy was placed on her chest. She fell in love instantly, tears streaming down her cheeks, the rest of the world forgotten in the wake of her son's birth. Joe had been by her side, as had her mother and Lula; what she had not known was that Ranger had been in the parking lot of St. Francis with Tank. She hadn't noticed when Lula slipped quietly from the room, digital camera in hand.

She hadn't been able to look at her son, and tell who he looked like. He had dark hair, his skin was darker than her's, an attribute that both Joe and Ranger possessed. His eyes were that shade of blue that was common among newborns. She couldn't tell with a look, and it didn't matter to her; but she had made a promise. So she had used a Buccal swab, one for the baby's cheek, another for her's and passed them off to Tank to be processed with the one that Ranger had supplied. Her son had been two weeks old.

She had left him snuggled on Joe's chest, both fast asleep. She had kissed them both, scratched Bob's head on the way out the front door, and joined Lula for breakfast and a day of shopping. It was also a chance for her to find out what was going on at Rangeman and with Ranger himself.

They had been knee deep in shoes at Macy's, when Lula's phone rang.

"I'm not answering that," Lula said in a huff. "I got important business going on here. Don't they know shoe shopping is sacred; you can't mess with that, cause if you do, the shoe Goddess will see to it that you never find a pair in your size."

"Now what if that was Tank," Stephanie said with a smile. "The sex God might not take to kindly to you ignoring your man."

"Well damn," Lula replied. "He better call back, cause I can't be making the sex God mad, Lula's got to get lovin' or nobody will be happy."

Lula gave a little thrill of laughter when her phone began to ring almost immediately. Stephanie couldn't help laughing at her friend's antics. She became absorbed in trying on the mound of shoes in front of her, so she missed the change in Lula's tone. Something skittered down her spine, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up on end, causing her to look at her friend.

"We'll be right there," Lula said, closing the phone, her eyes catching Stephanie's.

"What?" Stephanie questioned, knowing something had happened, something bad. "Ranger, is it..."

"Morelli's been shot," Lula replied, grabbing Stephanie's hands and pulling her towards the exit. "We have to get to St. Francis."

Lula thanked all the stars in the heavens when she saw Lester and Bobby striding towards them. She hadn't told Stephanie all of it, she couldn't be the one to change her friend's life irrevocably.


	2. Chapter 1: The Blue Wall

**I can't say thank you enough to all the people who left a review, and for the encouragement it gave me to get this chapter out faster than I had intended. So this is an early holiday gift for everyone who couldn't wait to find out what happened. I think there might be a whole lot more questions after you read this installment.**

**I only gave this a cursory review before posting it, so if there errors or typos, please forgive me. Please enjoy and let me know what you think.**

Chapter 1: The Blue Wall

By his very nature, Tank was not a nervous man. In the positions that he had served, nervousness would have been a sign of weakness, it would mark you as vulnerable; and that was something he could ill afford. Add to the fact that he was built like a tank (when he was younger, he thought built like a brick shit house was better, but with age came refinement), showing any kind of emotion would invite all sorts of idiots to challenge him, and he didn't have much time for idiots these days. But walking down the hall that led to the ICU of St Francis Hospital, made Tank as nervous as cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

The hallway was lined with officers from the Trenton Police Department, some in uniform, some in plain clothes; all of them looking at him. He could tell they didn't want to let him pass, and if it hadn't been for Gazzara, his path would have been blocked at the elevator. Tank respected these men, they put their lives on the line everyday; but he had his own brand of loyalty and if they got in his way right now, the ensuing fallout would turn Trenton into a battleground.

"He's pretty out of it," Gazzara said, as he swiped a badge that opened the doors to the ICU.

Tank noticed that there were a few officers strategically placed within the inner confines of the unit. Whatever had happened to Morelli was serious enough for some one to believe he still required protection; and that was so not good.

"Do you guys have any idea what happened?" Tank asked, turning his attention to Gazzara.

"Theories? Yea, we have a few; and none of them good," Gazzara replied.

Tank could read between the lines. It had been no secret that Morelli and Ranger had all but called open season on each other. Morelli had something that Ranger considered his, and Ranger always protected what belonged to him. The TPD believed that Ranger was behind this; and it didn't help that Tank didn't know his friend's exact whereabouts.

"No idea why he asked for me?" Tank questioned.

"No," was Gazzara's clipped answer. "Look, I'm trying not to speculate on what happened; sometimes when you get the wrong idea at the beginning of a situation like this, you miss important clues. A lot of the men out there think they know what went down today at Morelli's house. They want this to be Ranger's doing, I just want to make sure we go after the right person or persons. Plus, I don't relish the idea of trying to bring Ranger in."

Gazzara looked at Tank, and an understanding passed between them. If Ranger was involved in this, the likelihood of him being brought in alive was slim, and the chances of him taking a few men out with him were pretty high.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Tank replied.

They were standing outside a glass door that slid open when they had gotten close. A curtain had been partially drawn, allowing for a bit of privacy, but it did nothing to drown out the steady beeping coming from inside. Gazzara stepped forward, pulled the curtain aside, and allowed Tank to pass by him into the room.

Tank wasn't sure what he had expected, no one had given him the details, but the sight of Morelli was at the very least unsettling. To say Morelli was pale would have been an understatement, gray was a more appropriate description. There were tubes, and wires running from several machines, to various points on Morelli's body. Tank glanced at the monitors situated behind Morelli, and felt the gravity of the situation strike home.

There were two uniformed police officers inside the room, and when Tank went to step closer, they closed ranks to deny him.

"No." The voice was a thin rasp, but it was firm and drew all their attention to the man lying in the bed.

Morelli's eye burned; Tank wasn't sure if it was from pain, fever or determination.

"You, stay," Morelli said to Tank. "The others, go."

"Joe, I can't leave you alone with him," Gazzara replied, as he motioned for the two uniforms to leave.

"Fine," Joe rasped.

They waited silently as the uniforms left. A pretty, young nurse bustled in and drew up short when she saw Tank standing next to the her patient. He gave her a little smile, and then moved out of her way. The air in the room was tense as she made a few notes on a clipboard.

"I can give you something to make you more comfortable," she said, placing her hand gently on his shoulder.

"No," Morelli replied. "I'll rest... more easily... when I'm done here."

Something in his tone made her falter, and she looked at him with a discerning eye. He returned her gaze, and after a few more moments, she quietly left the room pulling the curtain closed behind her.

"Have you...have you found him?" Morelli asked, shifting his eyes back to Tank.

"Found who?" Tank asked. There were no chairs in the small confines of the room, so to hear Morelli better; Tank moved closer to the bed and went down on one knee.

"Ranger," he replied.

Gazzara shifted closer so as not to miss any details. He hadn't told either Joe or Tank that he was wired, and that their conversation was being overheard and recorded.

"Should I have?" Tank asked, a sense of dread forming in his chest.

"They ambushed him," Morelli gasped out; his voice filled with pain.

"Joe," Gazzara interrupted. "What happened?"

"Incapacitated Ranger...took him to...to the house...next door," Joe answered. "Its vacant. Shot him...maybe stabbed him. One of them had...a knife. Tortured him...he wouldn't scream...wouldn't speak...wouldn't beg."

Joe had to stop, his breathing becoming labored; every breath a struggle. Gazzara flipped open his phone, quickly punched in some numbers and waited. After a few moments his call was answered.

"Manoso maybe in the house next door," he said into the phone. "Wasn't sure if you got that or not. They have already relayed the information to the officers still a Joe's house."

"After they hauled...Ranger away...she picked up the baby...shot me and walked...walked out the door."

"She?" Tank asked, a note of surprise creeping into his voice.

"One female...definitely the one...in charge," Joe replied. He had a grip on Tank's jacket, almost as if trying to draw strength from the bigger man; strength he needed to get everything out.

"Six altogether...three on Ranger...two white...one black," Joe said. He was trying to give them as much information as possible. So much time had already passed and every second more, was a little bit more time that they had to get away from Trenton.

"One female...white, maybe Latina...maybe mixed," he said, closing his eyes. For several long moments there was no noise in the room, save the beeping from the machines. Tank and Gazzara waited patiently, knowing that was all they had left to give Morelli.

"Other two males...both Latino," he continued, his eyes fluttering open. "Two vehicles...both big...both SUVs or...maybe trucks."

The shrill ring of a phone split the air, making them all jump. Gazzara looked down at his hand, almost not recognizing that he was holding the offending item. He took breath and flipped it open.

"Yea," he barked into the receiver. Tank and Morelli watched him as he shook his head and murmured every few seconds. After about a minute he closed the phone.

"They found Ranger," he said. "He's in bad shape, but alive."

"Where are they taking him?" Tank asked, about to rise. He felt the pressure Joe was exerting on his arm, and he realized the cop wasn't quite ready to let him go.

"They're bringing him here," Gazzara said with a shake of his head. "Full police escort; seems he managed to either kill or incapacitate one of them, because they found another male in the basement of the house. The boys in blue are real happy about that."

"There's things...things you need...to tell him," Joe said, commandeering Tank's attention.

"Tell him it's his watch now...permanently. He's won this battle, so now...so now he has to...to play by my rules," Joe said with a smirk. "I would've married her...he can't do any less."

"Joe, you can't think like this," Gazzara began.

"Shut up Gazzara," Joe said never taking his eyes off Tank.

"I'll drag him to the altar myself," Tank promised.

Joe looked deeply into the big man's eyes, and he must have liked what he saw there, because he nodded his head.

"I believe you will. Also, tell him...tell him it doesn't matter..." Joe trailed off as they heard a small commotion outside the room.

"You can't go in there right now," they heard the firm voice of the young nurse, who had been in earlier.

"Don't presume to get in my way right now."

All three men started as they realized that the soft spoken tones belonged to Stephanie, and there was an implied threat of violence if the nurse didn't get out of her way.

"It's alright," Gazzara said, quickly stepping around the curtain to prevent any blood shed. The nurse gave him a stern look, but she acquiesced and stepped out of Stephanie's way.

"Gazzara?"

"Its alright Steph," he said, gently pulling her into the room.

He realized that it was through sheer bravado that she had made it this far. She faltered a little when she saw Tank, not understanding why he was here. But she didn't hesitate to take Tank's hand when he reached out to her, and pulled her close. After a very brief hug, Tank took the hand he was holding and placed it into Morelli's.

"You didn't have to get shot to get out of babysitting," she said, trying real hard to focus solely on him and not all the machinery and wires.

"I didn't want Lula thinking she could kidnap you to go shopping whenever she wanted," he replied.

Tank knew the effort it was costing Morelli to keep things light with Stephanie. He also knew that it was going to be up to him to fill her in on what was going on. He realized it was a job he would give to no other; he owed the man nothing less.

"You know I love you," Joe said.

"Yes," was her simple response.

"Forever," he said, kissing her palm. "I have to finish with Tank and Gazzara; OK?"

"Alright," she replied, kissing him lightly. "I'll go out here with Lula."

"I'll take them down to where your mom and family is waiting," Costanza said.

"Does she have the baby?" They heard Stephanie ask, as Carl led her and Lula down the hall.

If pressed, Tank would never tell that he saw tears come to the eyes of all the men in that room; and he would kill any who brought it up. Some things were sacred, and then some were even beyond that.

"He'll take...take care of her?" Joe asked.

"You know he will," Tank said, once again going back down on one knee by Morelli's head. "You _know _he has killed for her, you know he would die for her; we all would."

"Good," was his reply. "Tell him...it doesn't matter...," Tank had to lean in closer as Joe's voice faded a little.

"It doesn't matter...which one of us...is...was the baby's...it doesn't matter...just...get...get our...get our boy back."

For just a brief moment, a very brief moment in time, there was not a sound in the room. No breath being taken, no breath being exhaled, no rasp of equipment, no beep of machinery, no rustling of clothing, no shifting of bodies; for a very brief moment of time. And then the shrill sound of the monitor as it registered the lack of a heart beep; and then more alarms as the medical staff rushed into the small ICU room, pushing aside the two large men.

"Code blue, room 208. Code blue, room 208."

Eddie Gazzara and Tank stood in silent testimony in the doorway, watching as the ICU staff at St Francis Hospital tried in vain to revive a man they had both come to respect. They stood shoulder to shoulder, man to man as the life of Joseph Morelli came to an end.


	3. Chapter 2: An Eye For An Eye

**I tried very hard to get this chapter done earlier, but too many things conspired against me. This chapter is not as explosive as the last one, but it is necessary in moving the story along. I can't say thank you for the many reviews that have been left, but you guys a truly awesome group of motivators. I try to send a little thank you to everyone, if you didn't get one, I apologize and I will continue to try and thank everyone personally. So here is the next chapter. Enjoy and please let me know what you tink.**

Chapter 2: An Eye For An Eye

_Carlos_

He was having the dream again; a nightmare bathed in fire, blood and betrayal. He could feel the heat from the fire that closed in on him from all sides. Explosions from every direction shook the building with such force, it was amazing that it still stood. It was long past time for him to leave.

_Carlos, would you leave me here? Would you let me die?_

The voice flowed around him in the dream, sliding over his skin like warmed silk. It burned through his very being, hotter than the flames that roared around him; and twice as deadly. He had to end it, had to wake up to keep himself from being trapped here forever.

_Carlos, you are not as clean as you wish others to think. You too have blood on you hands._

He blocked the voice, the words that it spoke; trying to chain him in guilt and damnation. There was fire everywhere, the sounds of gunfire echoing in the distance, and people screaming as death stalked them. He wasn't afraid to die, he would gladly welcome it, but he had a responsibility to his men, and he would walk through this inferno to deliver them to safety.

_Carlos, my wrath will know no bounds. I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth and drag you to the hell you so richly deserve._

Something on the periphery of consciousness was trying to get his attention, but he couldn't concentrate. He turned his head away from the horrific scene being played out in front of him, blocking out all the sound; and waited. It seemed to take forever, but faintly, oh so faintly, he heard the small cry of a baby.

He took off in the direction of the crying, praying that he wasn't too late. He'd been too late for so many things in his life, but this, this was the most important. He dashed around the dead, the dying and those still fighting; desperately following the sound of those pitiful cries. And just when he thought he had made it, when he saw the flash of a blue blanket, the world exploded around him and catapulted him first into a sea of pain.

Ranger felt the hot slice of pain roar along his synapses, his eyes flew open as the last vestiges of the dream faded into nothingness. Clarity came slowly, the pain demanding all of his attention. In bits and pieces, he began to remember what had happened. An urgent phone call, a mad dash to Morelli's, the whisper that something was wrong a moment too late. A moment of disorientation, questions fired at him, an unseen voice taunting him, and then the pain had begun.

"Is he alive?"

Ranger tried to turn his head, but pain snapped through him and stars exploded behind his closed eyelids. He felt hands on him, efficient and purposeful.

"Yea; I don't know how, but he is alive," came a different voice, closer than the first. Ranger opened his eyes, once again trying to find the people talking.

"Don't try to move," some one said to him. Ranger tensed, trying to gather his strength to launch an attack.

"We aren't trying to hurt you," the voice explained. Ranger identified it as female, but that knowledge did little to reassure him. He knew that women were far more treacherous than their male counterparts.

"My name is Maya, I'm an E.M.T," she said coming into his line of vision. He took in her honey blond hair, green eyes, and allowed himself to relax just a fraction.

"My partner is Shane," she said, indicating a large man on his left about to insert a needle into his arm. "You've lost quite a bit of blood, so we need to stabilize you for transport to St. Francis.

He realized that she was talking in an effort to keep him calm, and hopefully non-combative. He felt the darkness beginning to gather at the edge of his vision, and brutally beat it back. He needed answers and could not afford himself the luxury of unconsciousness.

"I'm going to give you a little morphine," Maya explained, as she measured out a small dose into a syringe.

"No," he said firmly.

"You have to be in a lot of pain," she said, meeting his gaze. "This well help."

"No," Ranger said, with a slight shake of his head. Maya studied his pain filled gaze, and the determination that burned within their depths. She shook her head in understanding and replaced the cap on the syringe.

"Next door?" He asked, once again demanding her attention.

"I don't know what happened," she answered him. She watched as he ground his teeth in frustration, a small part of her aching for whatever had brought him to this place. She actually didn't know much about what had transpired in these two houses, a fact she was eternally grateful for; because she didn't think she could deny him the answers to his questions.

"Is he awake?"

Maya turned to look over her shoulder, and damn near died at the sight that met her eyes. Four very large, very menacing guys were standing at her back; none of them hiding the fact that they carried guns and all of them looking hell bent on murder.

"We are not here to hurt him," ones of the said, stepping forward. If she could have taken a step back, she would have, but she was already knelling on the floor and the only place left to go was outside the window.

"How...how did you get in here?" She asked, trying to hide her fear behind a burst of bravado.

"We walked," one of them said with a smile. If the smile was meant to be reassuring, this guy would have failed, Maya thought.

"The police officers just let you in?" she asked, unable to tear her eyes away from them, especially the one doing all the talking.

"We didn't actually stop and ask permission," he said, stepping forward. "My name is Bobby, and before you move him, I'd like to check him out."

Maya felt a scattering of unease race through her. "I'm sorry, I can't allow you to do that," she said, trying very hard not to let the fear creep into her voice. She knew she had failed miserably when Bobby came down on his knees next to her.

"It was a question, or request," he said, his dark eyes full of shadows and secrets. "He is my boss, and I answer to him first, my mother second, and the good Lord after that. All others can go to hell."

These men made Maya nervous, and even a little scared; but when Bobby picked up her hand, she felt all her trembling stop and her breath to catch in her throat. His touch was warm, gentle, and it caused a feeling of contentment to spread through her; that was until her began to run his thumb along the inside of her palm. Then she felt lightheaded, her pulse kicked up a notch and she thought she was wearing way to many layers.

"It's alright," she heard the man at her back say. Maya looked back to her patient, to find his dark eyes open, and clouded with pain.

"We won't be long," Bobby assured her, moving around her quickly and beginning a thorough assessment of the man on the gurney.

"Report," Ranger said, looking pass Bobby to Lester.

"Morelli was shot three times, all at center mass," Lester replied, moving closer to Ranger.

"The baby?"

"Gone as far as anyone can tell," Cal answered. All four men waited quietly when Ranger closed his eyes at that bit of news.

"Stephanie?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't know if he wanted the answer, but he had to know.

"I dropped her off at St. Francis when the call came through," Lester replied. "She had been out with Lula."

"It's time to move him," Bobby said, getting to his feet quickly. He took the syringe that Maya was still holding, uncapped it and looked at her. She seemed to know what he was asking, even though he hadn't said a word to her. She shook her head yes, confirming the contents of the syringe. Bobby quickly injected the painkiller into Ranger's iv, and after only a few moments he watched as Ranger;s eyes closed and his body relax.

"He is in bad shape," Bobby said to the other Rangemen. "It will be a miracle if he makes it, but I've seen him fight his way back from unbeatable odds before.

They stepped to the side as the two E.M.T.s rolled the gurney out the front door and quickly loaded Ranger into the back of the waiting ambulance. They heard the roar of four police motorcycle engines, and watched as the ambulance pulled away from the curb and head to St. Francis with a full police escort.

* * *

The shrill sound of a phone rang somewhere in the blackest of night, in some remote part of the world, where secrets were deadly and the men who kept them even more so. A dark hand reached out, and plucked the receiver from the base, and put it to his ear.

"Yes." The voice that spoke into the handset was like crushed glass; jagged and broken. There was no humanity in it's tone, and it held the memories of a individual who had seen things no other man ever had, and had the misfortune to still be alive. Someone consumed by hatred, and hell bent on revenge.

"It has begun," came across the receiver. This voice beguiling, sultry with just a hint of wicked pleasure.

"Then I am pleased," came the response. "Tell me, and Cass leave nothing out."

"She wasn't there, but that is how you wanted it," Cass began. "He was easy to lure, but as always, fought like the devil himself."

"The cop?"

"Maybe alive, maybe not," she responded, uncaring about the little details.

"And the baby?" This time there was an eagerness to the voice, and Cass couldn't help the smile that graced her lips.

She looked down at the baby sleeping peacefully in the bassinet that had been set up in her hotel suite. She marveled at the perfection in something so small, and reached out to gently to stroke one soft cheek. She watched as the little mouth opened, then closed, a soft sigh escaping. She felt despair clutch at her chest, and she ruthlessly beat it back.

"He sleeps soundly, as only the very young can," she replied.

"Do we know yet?" The voice hissed across the line.

"No; but I don't think it will matter to him," Cass replied, settling herself in a chair, gazing out the large window. "We have begun to hurt him. This will hurt the baby's mother, and that will hurt him deeply."

"I still want to know."

"As do I, Marco," she said. "It will not take long to find out. In the mean time, what are your wishes?"

"They will find the present you left in the basement," Marco answered. "I will be on my way to you with a short amount of time."

"Is that wise?" Cass asked, a feeling a foreboding coursing through her. They had waited so long, planning and plotting; she wanted nothing to destroy the opportunity that had finally been delivered to them.

"It can't be helped," he said, with a note of resignation. "I wish to be there when we bring Carlos to his knees. We will either triumph, or die trying, mi amor, mi vida."

.


	4. Chapter 3: Ashes To Ashes

**This is a warning that this Chapter is mostly filler. It is necessary to moving the story along and may not be overly exciting. It is a little longer than the others, but not by much.**

**You guys really rock when it comes to reviews! I try to respond to everyone, but I might miss a few. I am also asking for help from any and all of you. If you have been reading, then you might have noticed that the baby doesn't have a name; everyone just refers to him as the baby. I need suggestions, thoughts, comments, anything you can give me to help this poor kid get a name.**

**Happy reading and if enjoy it, please let me know (reviews really do help a writer)!**

Chapter 3: Ashes To Ashes

"Ms. Plum?" Stephanie stopped, her path blocked by two men, both wearing mirrored shades, and shoulder holsters that their suit jackets couldn't conceal. It was evident that they were police officers, detectives wearing suits that looked as if they had been featured in a recent edition of GQ. She didn't recognize them, but that wasn't unusual; even she hadn't met all the police officers in Trenton.

"I'm Special Agent Dax Kennedy, and this is my partner, Special Agent Mark St. Clare," as he spoke, both men pulled bi-fold wallets from their inner suit pockets, opened them, and held them up for her inspection.

Federal Bureau of Investigation. Stephanie frowned as she looked at the badges, then back to the two men standing in front of her. She wasn't entirely certain what Joe had been working on, but he hadn't mentioned anything about the Bureau since the fiasco with Gilman. She looked at Costanza, and noticed that he wouldn't meet her gaze, that gave her an uneasy feeling, and she took an unconscious step back.

Just then she heard the call for a code blue, and saw several people rush into the room she had just left, Joe's room. She felt the blood drain from her face, and try as she might, she couldn't draw air into her lungs. She felt the world around her tilt, a scream of denial clawing its way up her throat, and then the sweet oblivion of blackness swallowed her as she hit the floor.

* * *

Tank heard the doctor call time of death, and he bent his head in a brief prayer for the soul of Joe Morelli. The dead had no worries, and the living had to find a way to forge on; so after his moment of silence, he pulled out his phone, pushed two buttons and waited while it rang.

"Go," came Cal's crisp tone.

"Morelli's dead," Tank said simply into the receiver.

"Shit," came Cal's response. "This day has been truly fucked."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Tank said, his voice low and troubled.

"Bobby called in," Cal relayed. "They're bringing Ranger, full police escort, should be there within 15 minutes."

"How bad?" Tank asked, dreading the answer.

"Bad," Cal replied. "Bobby doesn't give him good odds; but hell, we've seen Ranger pull off some pretty miraculous stuff in the past."

Tank had seen his friend walk away from stuff that would have put other men on their graves, but he did so at a price. Some of the decisions that Ranger had to make, ate a little bit of his soul, and Tank wondered how much would be left and would it be enough.

"Call everyone one on Rangeman payroll; let them know we are going wheels up," Tank said, shifting into command mode. "No excuses, either you show up or you're fired. Have Silvio access Ranger's cell phone calls. He had gotten a call on his cell, and before I could blink, he was in the Cayene and driving like a bat out of hell. I want to know where that call came from, and I want a team on standby to fly to that location."

"The police have put out an Amber alert for the baby," Cal said. "They have a very vague description of the vehicle and a partial plate."

"When the TPD clears out, I want our own teams to go in," Tank continued. "I won't slight the TPD, after all they lost one of their own today; but I've got the feeling this is something big, something nasty, and something extremely personal."

"Copy," Cal acknowledged, and then the line went dead.

Tank glance down the hall and saw Stephanie crumble in a heap. He saw the two feds try to make a grab for her, but they missed and she hit the floor. He was in motion, and before anyone else could react, he was scooping her into his arms.

She was so pale, it frightened him. He cradled her against his big chest, willing to give his life for her if need be. He wish he could take some of the pain that had been heaped onto her, knowing this was going to get a lot worse before it got any better. It was always darkest before the dawn.

Lula had run to the nurses' desk, and Tank almost laughed at how she bullied two of them to come to her friend's aid. She was dragging one of them by the arm, and glaring so hard at the other, it was a wonder the woman didn't die from a heart attack.

"She fainted," Tank said, as the trio grew closer. "She just needs a quiet place to rest."

"In the waiting room," she replied, leading them all down the hallway. "There are two smaller rooms inside that have beds; you can lay her down. I'll take her vitals and get an resident to come look her over."

"That's not necessary," Tank replied.

"What do ya mean, _That's not necessary?_" Lula screeched at him. "She needs to get looked over. You can't just put her in a room, close the door, and hope she'll wake up in a few hours. Oh no, that's not how it works buddy. Might work for you tough as shit Rangemen, but Stephanie ain't built like one of y'all."

"Lula," Tank said, the moment she stopped to take a breath. "Bobby is on his way. I'd rather he looked her over."

"Well why didn't you say so," she replied glaring at him for a moment. She turned to the older nurse and said, "We'll just lay her down in one of those rooms. She just needs some place to rest."

Dead silence greeted them when they walked into the waiting room, every pair of eyes swinging to them, every pair of eyes belonging to a Morelli. Tank felt Stephanie begin to stir in his arms, and he wanted to get her into the smaller room so she could have a few moments of peace, before hell descended on her in the form of Joe's family.

"Oh my Lord, what has happened to Stephanie?" A dark haired woman asked, moving quickly to Tank.

"She just fainted," he replied, using a soft voice. He knew this woman was Angela Morelli, Joe's mother, and he would afford her all the respect a woman in her position deserved. "I just want to lay her down so she can rest."

"Of course, of course," Mrs. Morelli replied, her face creased with worry. She took note of the two FBI agents, Costanza and Lula behind him, and then swung her eyes back to him. "Where's the baby?"

The question stopped Tank dead in his tracks, and for a brief moment he stared at her in shock. No one had told these people that the person or persons who shot and killed Morelli, had taken the baby as well. Could this day get anymore fucked for him?

"What do you mean, _Where's the baby?_" Lula asked, stepping around Tank, so that she was front and center. "We left the baby at home with Morelli. We don't have the baby."

"I think this is where we come in," said Special Agent Kennedy, stepping forward and drawing the attention of every person in the room.

"You think," Lula said in a huff, turning around to confront the FBI agents.

"Do you still want to lay the young lady down?" The nurse asked Tank, a set of keys firmly clasped in her hands.

"Yes."

"No."

Tank looked down at the woman he was holding tightly in his arms, and was only mildly surprised to see her eyes open, her gaze steady, and an unholy light burning from within their depths.

"Steph, you've got to get some rest," Tank began.

"I'll rest when I'm dead," she said, her voice full with a wealth of emotions, none of them good.

Tank looked at her closely, and realized that she was changing. She was being reforged, bathed in anguish, turmoil, and the fire of battle; and like the mighty Phoenix, she would rise as something new. He understood that Morelli's death was a blow to her heart, but knowing that her child was in danger, was like a sledge hammer to her very being; and she had yet to find out that Ranger might be lost to her as well.

"Put me down Tank," she said.

He did as she asked, gently placing her on her feet in front of him. He kept his hand lightly on her shoulder when she swayed a bit. He had no desire to see her crumble to the floor again, he would be her rock until she no longer needed or wanted him. She lightly squeezed his hand in thanks, and turned her gaze to the two men now facing her.

"As you so succinctly put it a few moments ago; I think this is where you come in," Stephanie said to the man who had identified himself as Special Agent Dax Kennedy.

She took a good, long hard look at this man. He was tall, probably a few inches above six feet, athletically built; slim and trim. He wasn't like Tank, whose strength was displayed in his muscles and through the fear he invoked by intimidation; Dax Kennedy's talents lie in his ability to hide what he was thinking and what he knew. His emerald green eyes were shadowed, deep and mysterious; he had seen a lot, and not much of it good.

"Ms. Plum, I am sorry for your loss," he said, sympathy clear in his voice.

A gasped rippled through the room, and then the anguished sobs of a mother whose child has died, rose above the cacophony. With tears streaming unchecked down her face, Stephanie turned and gathered Angela Morelli's shaking body into her arms. She slowly eased the two of them down, until they were sitting in a pair of chairs, Tank standing behind them like an unmovable mountain, and Joe's sister Cathy to one side and Grandma Bella on the other.

"Why is the FBI involved in this?" Stephanie asked, her voice tremulous.

"It is standard procedure for the FBI to get involved in all child abductions," he replied, sitting down in a chair across from the four women. "Members from the Child Abduction Rapid Deployment Team are on their way and will want to set up a command post, most probably at the location where the child lives, and in this case abducted from."

"So you think some one killed my brother to take the baby?" Cathy asked, trying desperately to get a hold on what was happening to their family.

"We are not certain of all the facts at this time," Kennedy answered. Stephanie and Tank did not miss his moment of hesitation before he answered the question.

"What do you know?" Stephanie asked, drawing his attention back to her.

"There was an anonymous called placed to 911 about shots fired," he replied. "An exact address was given, and the caller hung up. First responders reported an TPD officer down, and said officer reported that a two week old infant had been taken by an unknown female assailant. Upon interview by officers, a Mr. Gorvich was able to give a description of the vehicle and a partial plate. An Amber Alert has been issued with a depscription of the vehicle and of the infant. And that Ms. Plum, is all really know at this point."

Tank knew that there was a lot more that Special Agent Dax Kennedy was not saying. One of those things was the fact that these two agents were not members of the Child Abduction Rapid Deployment Team; they felt more like counter terrorist agents; or violent crimes.

"We had hoped to be able to talk to Detective Morelli; but that is no longer an option, and I am very sorry about that," he said taking her hand as show of sympathy.

Tank bristled at this, but decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He didn't like Special Agent Kennedy, having dealt with his kind in the past. They were high on you cooperating with them; but didn't play so well when you needed their assistance. He was also sure that their involvement had nothing to do with the missing baby, and everything to do with one Ricardo Carlos Manoso. He had no intentions of letting them gain access to Ranger, until he made sure that his boss was up for sparring with the FBI.

He felt a little vibration on his hip, and from the corner of his eye, caught sight of Lester and Hal in the door way to the waiting room. He shifted slightly back, and was about to turn to join the, when he felt a firm grasp on his wrist. He looked down at the small, white hand grasping him, and then into blue eyes, shadowed with pain and questions. He saw Stephanie take note of Lester, and Hal, who had now been joined by Miguel, Ramon and Junior, and then her eyes darted back to his questioningly.

"I need to talk to them," he said in answer to her unspoken question.

"But why are they all here?" She asked. "In fact, why are you here?"

"Can we talk about this later?" Tanks asked, hoping to not draw too much attention to himself and Rangemen personnel. He should have known better, should have known she would have a sixth sense about why so many of Ranger's men would be here.

"He has either been arrested," she replied, jumping to her feet and heading for the door. "Or injured." She suddenly stopped, swinging back to him when they had both reached the doorway.

"Please tell me he is not dead," she gasped, her blue eyes immediately filling with tears.

"No," Lester said, quickly gathering her up. "He is not dead."

"But he is in bad shape," Tank said, extracting her from Lester and giving the man a hard look.

"What the hell is going on Tank?" She asked.

"I don't know Steph, but we are damn well going to find out."

* * *

"Have we got a positive id on the body from the basement?" Detective Rick Geller, asked the M.E., when he walked into the morgue with his partner, Detective Brice Hopkins.

"Ran his prints," the M.E. Responded, handing Geller a manilla folder. "Our dead body is one Ramon Esteban Manoso, and let me tell you, they beat the shit out of this guy, before they killed him."

"Did I hear you right," Hopkins said, stepping closer the table. "You said this guy's last name is Manoso?"

"That's what came back to his prints," the M.E. confirmed.

"This can not be a coincidence," Hopkins said to his partner.

"Hell no; looks like some one has declared war on Ranger."

* * *

Silvio held the express envelop that had just been delivered to the Rangeman offices in Miami, a chill going up his spine. He had a bad feeling that some really bad mojo concerning his boss was going down. He tapped the envelop several times, and decided that it was best for him to open it now. He ripped the tab, and shook out a single sheet of unlined white paper. He grabbed a pair of gloves, and careful of possible fingerprints, held the paper by it edges.

_**Carlos,**_

_**I know that your pain runs deep now; not as deep as my own, but close, oh so close. Let us say, a brother for a brother. There is not much that hurts like losing a brother, I should know, and now so do you. This leaves us each with one brother. I wonder which of us will mourn the death of our last male sibling. A better question might be; would you actually mourn ?We have many other scores to settle, many more battles before this over; and this time only one of us will be left standing.**_

Silvio took in a sharp breath and reached for the phone.


	5. Chapter 4: Poison

**As promised, I managed to get this chapter up by the end of the weekend! For some reason it didn't flow quite they I wanted it to, but we are moving forward. More information about our adversaries will be forthcoming.**

**You guys rock with the reviews, and once again I tried to send everyone a little thank you. If you didn't get I'm sorry and will try to do better next time. **

Chapter 4: Poison

Special Agent Kennedy stood in the open doorway of an ICU room, and stared dispassionately at the man who laid unconscious, and uncaring of the world around him. It had been close to ten years since Dax had last seen the man now being referred to as Ranger. To Dax; he would always be Carlos, or on the very rare occasion, Ricardo.

They had grown up together in Miami, attending first middle school, then high school. They had played on the same soccer team, terrorized their neighborhood, and fantasied about what cars they would own, when they were rich and famous. He had taken Celia, Carlos' younger sister to prom, and thought that one day he would marry her, and then Carlos really would the brother Dax had wanted him to be. But dreams were just dreams, insubstantial, and most likely never to come true; it never kept him from hoping though.

Ten years was a long time, and people changed. Dax had changed, he was no longer the all American boy, but a jaded veteran of horrors that left a man with a jagged soul, and an addiction to alcohol that barely eased the pain. He wasn't sure how other people coped, but he knew that most people hadn't seen or done the things he had. Things to save a country, a way of life, a childhood friend. Carlos had gone looking for answers, he had found a nightmare, and now that nightmare was coming back to haunt him, and more likely than not, to kill him.

"Special Agent Kennedy," he heard a soft voice say from behind him. He turned to see Stephanie Plum standing there, exhaustion etched into every line of her face, deep shadows of grief in her beautiful blue eyes, and the weight of the world on her small shoulders. Her brown curls were in disarray, and framed her face in wild abandon, an indication of what her life had morphed into. A hellish nightmare, with no end in sight.

"Ms. Plum," he replied, turning fully forward in the door way, blocking her view into the room. "I thought you had left hours ago."

"I could say the same about you," she said, giving him an assessing look.

There was something about him that did not sit well with her. It was not dislike, or fear, but the knowledge that he knew things, and that he was completely unwilling to share those things with her, or anybody for that matter. She had spent the last several hours talking to the police, and then the FBI agents from the Child Abduction Rapid Deployment team; which she had noted Special Agent Kennedy was absent from.

* * *

There had been a very brief conversation with Joe's mother, neither of them quite ready to deal with funeral arrangements, and they had agreed to put it off until tomorrow. When Stephanie had looked up, she realized that it had been several hours since Ranger had been brought in, and she had no idea what condition he was in.

Her family had descended on the hospital when word had reached them about Joe's murder, and the subsequent abduction of the baby. While she was thankful for their support, she needed time to herself, and convinced them that going to Joe's house on Slater was the best thing they could do. The FBI and police would need all the help they could get, combing the area, answering the tip hotline, and making sure that they was plenty of food on hand.

Stephanie had finally made her way to the waiting room where the Rangemen had assembled. She knew that Tank had assigned a small detail of men to cover access points in and out of the hospital. There was a group strategically placed around the emergency room, making sure that no one had access to Ranger, except approved personnel. Tank had spent most of the time on the phone, or talking to the TPD officers that occasionally popped in. After what had seemed like an eternity, two men in surgical scrubs came into the waiting room. They looked extremely apprehensive, the number of large, hostile men giving them pause.

"Please don't let them rattle you," Stephanie said, getting to her feet and approaching the two doctors.

The older man took her hands into his in greeting, giving the a slight squeeze. "I'm Dr. Avery, and this is Dr. Saris.

"Are they all waiting for information on Mr. Manoso?" Dr. Avery asked, focusing on Stephanie. The doctors moved a little closer, as Ranger's men began to close ranks around them.

"Yes," she replied, with a small smile. "He employs all of them, and they are extremely anxious to hear about his condition."

She was also eager to hear how Ranger was doing, but she was desperately reaching for caution. Stephanie wasn't sure she could take any more bad news, and if she lost Ranger, there was a damn good chance she would need to be sedated, restrained and confined. Her grip on reality was tenuous at best, and fragile enough that one tiny upset would cause it to snap; permanently.

"Are any of you family?" The younger doctor, Dr. Saris asked. He was tall, with rakish, good looks, and an arrogance that grated slightly on Stephanie's nerves.

"Family, no," Tank answered, coming to stand directly behind Stephanie, allowing her to lean against him. He could feel her trembling and knew it was only a matter of time before she collapsed. "I am his medical proxy, and in the event he can not make medical decisions for himself, I am to make them. Ms. Plum here, is his personal assistant, and as such, she would be the one to make any arrangements concerning his care once he is released from the hospital. And if you need a reason for all the men present; lets just say they are all his personal body guards, and try to leave it at that."

Stephanie had never heard Tank say so many words at one time. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to take a peep at him, and caught him with a sardonic smirk on his face. He was enjoying making the young doctor squirm.

"That is more than good enough for me," the older doctor replied, indicating that they should all sit. "I can only speculate as to how Mr. Manoso came to be in his current predicament. I say this, because who ever did this to him, knew exactly what they were doing."

"So they were trying to kill him?" Some one asked.

"No," Dr. Saris answered. "If they wanted to kill him, he would in fact be dead already."

"I'm not sure I understand," Stephanie replied.

"Mr Manoso is alive because whoever did this to him wanted him to survive the ordeal," this from Dr Avery. "Although he was beaten, no bones were broken, and no internal damage was done. He was not shot, but he was stabbed several times; all in strategic places that allowed for sever blood loss, but no permanent damage to muscles, tissue or tendons. Pressure was applied to these wounds by his assailants, therefore buying Mr. Manoso enough time to be found, and several blood transfusions to be administered."

"He was also poisoned," Dr. Saris noted. "Whatever had been administered to him, first caused him excruciating pain, then depressed his heart rate, caused difficulty in breathing, and probably induced some horrific hallucinations."

"Please, stop," Stephanie said, jumping to her feet.

She couldn't listen to any more of this. Some one had tortured Ranger to the brink of death, but then had gone to equally extraordinary measures to make sure he survived. She couldn't understand how some one could be so venomous, so filled with that much hatred, and not be wholly consumed by it.

"I'm sorry Ms. Plum," the young doctor replied, his arrogance slipping away, to be replaced by compassion and sympathy.

"How critical is Mr. Manoso's condition?" Tank asked. He wanted to get his wrapped up quickly, and spare Stephanie any more anguish.

"Currently he is stable," Dr. Avery answered. "Some one administered the antidote to the poison, thereby alleviating the symptoms that had been induced."

"We will keep him in the ICU for the next couple of days," Dr. Saris said. "Poisons are tricky, and although we believe he was given the antidote, sometimes there are lingering side affects."

"May we see him?" Stephanie asked, needing to touch him, to reassure herself that Ranger was still in the land of the living.

"Yes, but only for a few brief moments," Dr. Avery replied, kindness shining from his dark eyes.

"Thank you doctors," Stephanie said shaking both their hands, and watched as they had left the waiting room.

"Go," Tank said, nudging her towards the door. That was how she had come to find Special Agent Kennedy already in Ranger's room.

"Are you hoping that he can give you information vital to catching the individuals responsible for today's event?" She asked him.

"You could look at it that way," he said evasively.

Stephanie could tell there was so much that Agent Kennedy was leaving unsaid. Any other time she might have found that amusing, but secrecy was beginning to really get on her nerves.

"You sound a lot like Ranger," she said, slipping pass him and into the room. "Answering a question without actually supplying any information."

"It's inevitable in my profession," he remarked. "I will take my leave, as I do not wish to impose on your time with Mr. Manoso; and its obvious, that as of right now, he will be unable to enlighten me to today's event."

"You're not here because my son was kidnapped, are you?" Stephanie asked, as she moved closer to the bed.

She had to stifle a sob, caught off balance by the bruises on Ranger's face and arms. He was so pale, so still, she had never seen him in such a vulnerable position, and it scared her to death. She reached out to touch his dark, silky hair, but pulled up short, afraid that any contact might cause him unbearable pain.

"Actually, your son's abduction is part of the reason I am here," Dax replied, also moving closer to the bed. "Especially if Carlos is his father."

"You know Ranger?" She asked, surprised by the kernel of information.

"Ranger, not so much. Carlos Manoso, most definitely," he replied.

"I'm guessing that's all you're going to tell me," she said. Stephanie could tell he was hiding a lot more than he was sharing, and it was beginning to infuriate her.

"That is probably more than you should know," he replied. "Believe when I say, ignorance is bliss."

"I'm sorry Agent Kennedy, but that's just not going to work for me any more," Stephanie replied, her tone sharp and caustic. "Right now, I'm leaning more towards, knowledge is power."

Dax studied her intently for several moments, the silence in the room broken only by the steady beeping of the machinery. She was tougher than she appeared, her body and pretty face, hiding a tough inner core, and quick mind. People would underestimate her, and that was something he knew he was going to exploit. He would use her, bait the trap and walk away. It wouldn't matter to him if she lived, or died; as long as he got his man.

"But then, I would hunt you to the ends of the world; and I'm sure that is not something either of us wants," Ranger said, as if he could read Dax Kennedy's thoughts.

Stephanie had seen Ranger angry, he became quiet, deceptively calm, and took on the look of a predator. She saw that his eyes glittered fiercely, a promise of violence burning in their depths. This Ranger scared the shit out of her, and she went to step back, not wanting to be a casualty of this battle. Before she could even so much as breathe, Ranger had her hand, and twined their fingers together, effectively tying them together.

"Carlos," Dax began, his voice just as quiet, his eyes just as predatory. "You know..."

"It doesn't matter," Ranger interrupted him. "You will not use Stephanie in any way, its not an option."

"What about the baby?" Dax asked, something silent passing between the two of them.

Stephanie felt Ranger's fingers tighten around her's, and tremors rack his body. He closed his eyes for a long moment, and just as she believed he had slipped back into unconsciousness, he slowly opened them and looked at her. Neither of them spoke, words not necessary at the moment. She could easily read the pain, regret and sorrow in his face, and it damn near broke her heart. She had lost Joe today, and that had devastated her, but almost losing Ranger had made her want to die; she couldn't, wouldn't live without him.

"I'm sorry Babe," he said, kissing the palm of her hand. She curled her hand around his cheek, stroking the stubble there. She leaned in, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"We better hope like hell that the baby is mine," he answered, turning his attention back to Dax.

"Why?" Stephanie asked, directing the question to both of them. Something about the way both men held themselves, sent shivers of dread up and down her spine.

"Because if he isn't Carlos' son, they will kill him," Dax replied.

**Well holy shit! Come on and tell me what you think. I love reviews and promise to dance a jig for each one!**


	6. Chapter 5: Go Hard Or Go Home

**Hello everyone! This chapter is shorter than the others, and not quite how I planned it, but I was truly inspired to get this done for you guys. So many of you leave reviews, and I try to personally answer all of them. I promised a few of you the next chapter by Friday, but hey, its early.**

**Please read, and enjoy! And if you like it, let me know. I love reviews!**

Chapter 5: Go Hard Or Go Home

Before Stephanie could react to Agent Kennedy's statement, the glass door slid open, and a veritable army of men walked into the small room. She shouldn't have been surprised, after all these were Ranger's men and they were loyal to their last breath. Most of them would gladly give their lives for him, and given the current situation, she was sure they were ready for a little payback.

Tank and Bobby came through first, both dressed in standard Rangeman black, each carrying a large black duffel bag. Hal and Lester were next, barely a step behind. Lester turned and secured the door behind them, leaving Junior and Manuel to guard the other side, and she caught a quick glimpse of four more Rangemen at the entrance to the ICU. Tank dropped his duffel by the bed, while Hal placed a large black case on the rolling hospital table, and a smaller case at the foot of Ranger's bed.

Bobby opened the large black case, pulled out a sealed envelop and handed it to Tank. A look passed between the two men, then Tank turned, leaned down to whisper in Ranger's ear, then handed him the envelop. Stephanie saw Ranger take in a shuddering breath, close his eyes and make the sign of the cross.

Fear gripped her by the throat, and just as she was about to give voice to her worse fear, Tank touched her shoulder. She looked at him, and he shook his head. The relief that poured through her made her knees buckle, and he guided her to the only chair in the room. He hadn't brought news that her baby had been found; dead. As long as she wasn't handed concrete proof that he was dead; she could hold on, she could hope.

"What is it?" Dax asked, breaking the silence.

"The body in the basement; was positively identified as Ramon," Ranger said, his eyes still closed, his voice jagged with pain. Stephanie gasped, her mind going immediately to one of Ranger's men.

"But he was just here," she said, her voice a husky whisper.

"No Steph," Tank said, in a whisper that only she could hear. "Ranger's younger brother, Ramon Manoso. The police thought Ranger had taken out one of his assailants, and that his buddies dumped the body in the basement of the house where they found Ranger. Turns out, they murdered Ramon as a message to Ranger."

Stephanie was stunned into silence, and for a moment she felt utter despair crash in around her; who the hell were these people? These people had killed a Trenton cop, they killed the brother of one of the most dangerous men she knew, and they had her son. She had been holding on to the belief that it would take some one utterly heartless to kill a newborn baby, but she was rapidly realizing that these people had no hearts. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think, as hope drained out of her, to be replaced by mind numbing terror.

Silence had once again descended on the room, making it ripe with tension. Stephanie watched Tank go into the bathroom, a small black bag in his hands. She heard the water in the shower go on, and absently wondered why he was going to take a shower here, now.

Her attention was diverted when she saw Agent Kennedy take off his suit jacket, followed quickly by his button down shirt and tie. Lester handed him a black, short sleeve shirt, which he pulled over his head, obscuring the magnificent cut of his chest and abdomen. With no thoughts to modesty, he undid the belt and zipper on his pants, let them fall to the floor, and replaced them with a pair of black cargoes, followed by a pair of black boot. Stephanie grinned, thinking it was a good thing his boxers were black, or he would have had to lose them, and what a sight that would have been. Lester gathered up the discarded clothing, methodically checked the pockets, handing various items to Dax, and then stuffing the suit into one of the duffels.

She had been so engrossed in watching Agent Kennedy's strip show, that she hadn't been paying any attention to what was going on in the rest of the room. She saw that Bobby had spread several items onto the hospital table, and he was talking very softly to Ranger, while using the controls to the lift the bed into an upright position. One he had it to his satisfaction her pulled the sheet off of Ranger, and let it fall to the floor.

Stephanie could see the hard set to Ranger's jaw, and she wasn't sure if it was from anger or pain; either way she ached for him, and desperately wished she could make it all go away. There hadn't been too many occasions when she had seen him in something other than black clothing, and today was no different. She didn't know how he managed it, but he had. He was wearing a pair of of black boxer briefs, and a silky black shirt that snapped down the front, and sides. She watched as Bobby undid the snaps, carefully removed it from his body and handed it to Lester.

For a moment no one moved or made a sound as they took in the savagery of what had been done to Ranger. He had bruises almost everywhere, and large black bruises covered his rib cage. Several sections of his body had angry, red flesh that had been stitched back together with black thread. Bobby constantly murmured to him as he worked, first giving Ranger several shots, then covering the stitched areas with large, flesh colored patches that were almost impossible to detect next to Ranger's skin.

"How many boss?" Bobby asked, holding a box in his hands.

"Two," was Ranger's clipped response.

"What are those?" She asked, as Bobby approached the bed, two packets in his hand.

"Fentanyl patches," he replied. "They'll help with the pain."

Alarm bells started going off in Stephanie's head when Bobby removed the iv needles from Ranger, and discarded them into the red receptacles. He took a moment to look at Ranger's chart, then pulled all the papers free and handed them to Lester; who then put them into one of the many black duffels. Stephanie had been so absorbed in what was going on around her, that when Tank lightly touched her shoulder, she nearly jumped out of the chair.

"Sorry," he said to her with a wicked grin. "You need to shower and change."

"Why?" She asked, even though she rose from the chair, and headed for the little bathroom.

"You might not get another chance for a while," he responded, gently pushing her into the room and closing the door in her face.

You just had to love alpha males, she thought. She quickly stripped, stepped beneath the spray and sighed as the hot water began to work on her extremely, over taxed body. The trauma of the day would never faded completely from her mind, but for these few brief moments, she allowed herself to forget the truly fucked up hand she had been dealt.

She took a deep breath, opened her eyes and grabbed the soap. She wasn't surprised to be met with Ranger's scent and happily showered with the Bulgari, allowing herself to wrapped in his essence. She dried off with a black towel, supplied from the never empty black duffel, which had also coughed up matching black bra and panties, black cargo pants, shirt, socks and boots. It was a damn good thing she looked good in black, she thought, as she pulled on black boots.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, it was to see Bobby firmly closing the glass door in the face of several nurses and a few doctors. He pulled the curtain closed, blocking everyone's view into the room.

"What was that about?" She asked.

"They were not happy when I removed the leads for the monitors from Ranger," he replied with a shrug and a boyish grin.

Stephanie noted that the room was now at full capacity, with Junior and Manuel on this side of the door. They were stowing things back into the duffels, as well as handing out various weapons. She looked at Manuel as if he had lost his mind, when he began to fit her with a shoulder harness, and then held out a black jacket for her to wear.

"Bosses orders, Bomber," he replied.

When the sea of bodies parted, she was stunned to see Ranger on his feet, fully dressed, an air of absolute danger surrounding him. His brown eyes were dark with anger, and glittered with the promise of death. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and willed his body into submission.

"What in the hell are you doing?" Stephanie all but shrieked at him. She couldn't believe the idiotic man was out of bed, and that these numbskulls were all just standing there watching him.

He opened his eyes, and looked at her. Stephanie felt completely consumed by his gaze, the sheer heat of it blazing against her skin, battering against her very soul. He walked to her, no sign of his injuries evident in his stride. He took her hands, placing one on his chest, directly over his heart, and the other he held tightly within his own grasp.

"What were you thinking about naming the baby?" He asked.

Stephanie wasn't sure this was a conversation she wanted to have with Ranger, especially not with witnesses. She and Joe couldn't agree on a name, and if she was being honest, her reticence was due to not knowing which of them was her child's father.

"Joe liked the name Matthew," she replied, tears coming to her eyes, and then streaming down her cheeks.

"No tears, mi querida," he said, kissing them from her cheeks.

"Why are you out of bed Ranger?" She asked, her voice desperate.

He stepped back from her, shrugging into the jacket that Tank handed him. He looked around the room, noting that all traces of his presence had been removed, and packed away. He nodded and Junior opened the sliding glass door.

"I'm going to go get our son back from those murdering bastards," he replied, handing her the same envelop that Tank had handed him. "I'm going to get, Jose Mateo Ciruela Manoso, and bring him home, where he belongs."

**Alright then, Ranger had spoken! Please let me know if you liked this. I wanted it to be good for you guys, but I'm not sure if I pulled it off!**


	7. Chapter 6: The Sight

**Hello everyone! Here is the next chapter. It didn't flow quite the way I wanted it to, and there is not a whole lot of action, but we need quite chapters to move the story along. In the last chapter, Ranger named the baby Jose Mateo Ciruela Manoso. The Ciruela is Spanish for Plum for all the people who asked for the meaning.**

**Once again you guys amaze me with your reviews, and much like you guys can't wait an update, I wait breathlessly for reviews. This weekend I am celebrating my birthday, and this is my present to all of you who are reading this story.**

Chapter 6: The Sight

"The baby is yours? He's _our_ son?" Stephanie asked, feeling a wide range of emotions rip through her at Ranger's words.

"Yes Babe, he's ours," Ranger answered, pulling her into his arms.

She pulled back a little from Ranger, and opened the envelop he had placed in her hands. She extracted a single sheet of paper, and quickly scanned the information. She wasn't sure of everything that was typed there, but in the conclusion section, it clearly stated that Ricardo Carlos Manoso was the only possible father of the samples tested.

"I guess the timing wasn't as off as you thought," Ranger said to her with a wicked smile.

"Or you're just an over achiever," she replied.

"Time to go," Ranger said, stepping back from Steph. "Once we leave this room, we go silent. No chatter, questions or comments, until I give the all clear."

Junior opened the glass door, and prepared to walk through it, when he was brought up short by the sight of a very small, very old woman. He grunted as he collided with her, and instinctively reached out to steady her so that they didn't go down in a heap.

"Get your paws off me boy," the little lady snapped, her voice laced with impatiences. "Get out of my way, or I'll put the eye on you."

Stephanie groaned as the voice of Joe's Grandma Bella reached them. She saw Junior look back at Ranger, obviously looking for some direction in dealing with the pint sized, old lady. Ranger nodded slightly, and his men parted to allow Bella fully into the room. The old dragon walked in, an air of disdain evident as she moved pass the Rangemen and came to a stop in front of Stephanie and Ranger.

"You other boys can wait in the hall," she said.

At first no one moved, but once again, a slight nod from Ranger had them all filing out, and closing the door quietly behind them. Stephanie stiffened and tried not to shrink back, as Grandma Bella moved closer to them. She was apprehensive about why the old bat was here, and she was pretty sure that whatever was; it wasn't going to be good.

"I have the sight, you know," she said, her steely gaze raking over them. "I've seen what is to come, and best you heed my words, there are dark days coming.

Stephanie held her breath, waiting for the theatrics to begin. She could only guess that the stress from today's events had finally sent the old lady over the precipice, and straight into the arms of insanity.

"It comes down to choices," she continued. "I told Joseph the same thing; told him he had two choices. One path would bring him the life he wanted, but would cause much grief and bitterness in the future. The other path, it would bring much happiness to those he loved, but he would not live to see it."

"He made his decision," she said, her words tinged with pain at the loss of her grandson.

"You need to let go of the anger, and fear," Grandma Bella said, turning her full attention to Ranger. "I've seen where they will lead you, and its not a pretty place. The guilt needs to go as well; it eats at you, stripping you bare, binding you to a path that will hurt the person you love the most."

Stephanie felt Ranger stiffen at her side, and she could not be certain if it was from pain, or the words that Grandma Bella had spoken. She had been on the receiving end of many of the old lady's suppose visions, and none had ever been like this. Grandma Bella's voice was hard, resolute, and full of absolute certainty. Her words dropped into the small, dark room of the ICU, with the force of a battering room, and the feel of possible doom.

"My grandson wouldn't let me put the eye on you," she said, turning her attention to Stephanie. "I should have anyway. Blaming yourself for his death will get you nowhere; Joseph made his choice, don't cheapen it by believing it was your fault. It will serve no purpose. You have to embrace those things that make you uncomfortable; you'll know what they are when they present themselves. It is imperative that the two of you get Jose back, more than you understand hinges on that. Ranger, always remember; blood is thicker than water."

Before either of them could blink, or say anything, Grandma Bella turned and shuffled back to the door. It opened, and she silently walked out, never looking back at the two people standing shell shocked in the gloom.

"I'm sorry," Stephanie whispered to him. "She's a crazy, old lady."

"Sometimes, crazy old lady's know more than they should," he replied, turning his dark gaze on her.

Stephanie felt a slow heat unfurl low in her belly. She was beyond exhausted, hanging on to her sanity by a thread, her son in the hand's of some rally psychotic people; but Ranger could reduce her to a quivering mass of lust with one heated look.

"You should stop looking at me like I am slice of cake," he told her, his voice going husky with his own desire.

"You're in no condition to make good on any threats," she said, not being able to help goading him.

"Babe, I'm injured; not dead," was his reply as he brushed his mouth lightly against her's.

"Boss," Tank said from the door. Ranger looked at his friend, the two communicating with just a glance. He nodded once, entwined his fingers with Stephanie's, and moved them out of the room.

Stephanie noticed that although Ranger was on his feet, his movements were slower, not as fluid as they usually were. He tried to keep his pain hidden, but she knew he was hurting, and she couldn't understand why he was pushing himself so hard. He had men at his disposal who would be more than happy to hunt down the bastards that took their son. The FBI and Trenton police were motivated in catching these killers as well.

They moved silently through the hospital corridors, almost like ghosts. The people they encountered quickly looked away, sensing this was something they didn't want to get involved in. Stephanie realized they were avoiding the elevators, taking the stairs, even though it left Ranger in agony, his body trembling, his breathing uneven and labored.

As they got closer to the emergency room, she saw several Rangemen break off at different points, leaving her, Ranger, Tank, Bobby and Agent Kennedy together. They moved through the ER at a clipped pace, no one challenging them as they went out a set of double doors clearly marked _Authorized Personnel Only_, and into the cold Trenton air.

Tank and Agent Kennedy headed for one of three ambulances parked outside the double doors. The two of them climbed into the front, as Bobby opened the back doors, ushered them in and gave Tank a nod. Stephanie barely made it to the padded bench before they rocketed out of the hospital lot, lights flashing and sirens wailing.

Stephanie lost track to time, as she watched Bobby work on Ranger. The two of them had a silent argument, that ended with Ranger finally acquiescing, and laying down on the gurney. Bobby hooked Ranger to the monitor, cursed when he saw the numbers on the small screen, and opened the black case he had brought with them. He pulled out several vials, syringes and gloves and went to work, cursing the whole time, and calling Ranger everything, but a child of God. Ranger smiled at him the whole time.

After what seemed like hours, Tank turned the lights and sirens off, but he didn't let up off the speed. They thundered through the night, none of them speaking, and Stephanie swayed a bit, as exhaustion tried to claim her. Bobby turned to her, syringe in hand. She shook her hand, murder in her eyes, and her body grew taunt, ready to fend him off. Bobby glanced at Ranger, who in turn raked Stephanie from head to toe. She relaxed when Ranger shook his head, and Bobby put the syringe away and gave her a boyish smile.

The road beneath them changed from smooth asphalt, to gravel, causing the ambulance to bounce and sway. After close to twenty minutes of being tossed around like a rag doll, the ambulance screeched to a halt, and Tank opened the back door.

"Your driving sucks," Bobby snarled to Tank, as he he jumped to the ground.

"Next you can drive, and I'll play doctor to the boss," Tank replied, a wide smile splitting his face.

Stephanie followed Bobby out of the ambulance, giving Ranger a modicum of privacy as Tank helped him to the ground. She knew Ranger would hate anyone to see him in a vulnerable position, and to assuage his pride, she thought it best to ignore the efforts of his men as they helped him.

Where ever they were, it was a long way from civilization. There was nothing around them, save a large structure that bore a resemblance to a log cabin. There was no light, other than what spilled from the windows of the house. It was just enough to illuminate several black vehicles parked at the edge of a gravel lot.

As they moved towards the house, the door opened, and Stephanie recognized Hal, silhouetted in the gloom. She stunned when she found herself in a large open room, a fire crackling in a huge stone hearth, and several Rangemen obviously waiting for their arrival.

"Report," Ranger said, striding into the room, no evidence that he had been in agonizing pain only minutes before hand.

"Junior and Manuel reported that they were tailed upon leaving the hospital," Hal said, closing the door on the cold, night air. "They have since lost the tail, and are heading towards Rangeman."

"Has there been any suspicious activity at the Haywood building?" He asked, as Miguel handed him a sheaf of papers.

"No," Hal said, a moment of hesitation not going unnoticed.

Ranger ignored the papers, focusing his full attention on the man. He followed Hal's gaze, realizing he was looking at Stephanie, uncertainty evident on his face. He moved to Stephanie, standing behind her, a warm hand resting on her shoulder.

"What's happened?" Ranger asked, his tone clipped.

"They've struck at Stephanie's apartment," Hal answered on a heavy sigh. "It was burned to the ground."

Stephanie drew in a sharp breath, and her thoughts skittered to all the people who lived in her former apartment building.

"What else," Ranger said, sensing there was more.

Hal took a very deep breath, hating being the one to have say the rest, but no one else stepped forward; no one wanted to hurt Bomber.

"They've also burned her parents and sister's house to the ground."

* * *

"_Marco, Mauricio!" The excited cries of the little boy reached his older brothers, as they strode into the large dining room where their family had gathered for a birthday celebration._

_Balloons filled the room, confetti and presents spread all over the large mahogany table, along with a huge castle shaped cake. The brothers had missed the earlier celebration that had taken place outside, but had made a point to be here for their family's private party._

"_Pequeno," Marco yelled, catching the young boy and tossing him in the air. "__¿Me extrañaste?"_

_Little one, did you miss me?_

"_Yes Marco," he exclaimed, throwing his little arms around his brother's neck._

"_And what about me, little one?" Mauricio asked, snatching him from Marco, and spinning him around._

"_Missed you most Mauricio," he exclaimed, breathless from giggling._

"_I'm hurt," Marco said, placing a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded._

"_No you not silly," the little boy said, his brown eyes twinkling with merriment._

"_I have a present for you," Marco said, coming to stand next to his brothers._

_He hand the little boy a small wooden box, and opened the lid for him. Inside nestled on a bed of crushed black velvet, was two large, sterling silver bracelets, and one smaller one. He took out one and handed it to Mauricio, and placed the smaller one on the little boy's wrist. His sister, Iliana came over, and secured the second large one to Marco's wrist._

"_What does it say Marco?" The little boy asked, sensing that something important had just happened._

"_It means we are brothers, forever," Marco solemnly answered._

Marco shuddered at the memory, his heart hammering against his chest. The baby must have felt his anxiety, because he squirmed and let out a small cry. Marco rubbed his back, swaying with him as he looked out the windows of the hotel penthouse.

That birthday celebration had been the last time he had seen his youngest brother. He had turned three that day, and after dinner and cake, the older boys left with their father. Several hours later, a trusted servant had found them, explaining there was trouble at the big house.

When they arrived, it was to find their home in flames, their sisters, Iliana and Catalina safe, but hysterical, no sign of their mother or little brother anywhere. Their father had torn the surrounding area apart, looking for his wife and the child that had been a surprise to the whole family. He had never found them, and that day changed their lives forever.

Marco savored the feeling of the baby nestled against his chest, the slight weight of him cradled in his hands. He was a ruthless man, one who kept his emotions locked away, and now was not the time for past memories to haunt him. He had a job to do, and he would see it through to the end, whatever that end entailed.

He felt Cass' presence behind him, and a moment later she slipped her arms around his waist, pressing herself into his back. He reveled in the feel of her body against his, as held the baby in his arms. He felt the little puffs of the baby's warn breath against the side of his neck, and a feeling of contentment spread through him.

"It's dangerous for you to be here," she said, once again giving voice to her apprehension.

"So you have said," he replied softly. "How long before we know the baby's paternity?"

"Not long," she replied, desire snaking through her, as the warmth of his body seeped into her's. "What will you do if he's the son of the cop."

"You know," he answered. "I made a promise. I will bring Carlos Manoso to his knees; no matter who else get's caught in the crossfire."

**Well Marco might actually be human; then again maybe not! Please leave me a review and let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 7: Secrets

**Once again I'm not sure how I feel about a chapter. I knew what I wanted when I started, but the characters decided they wanted something different. Either way, here it is. We are beginning to learn some of the secrets that our friend Ranger has been keeping.**

**I am also humbled by the reviews that have been left, and hope that they continue. I will still try to answer each individually, but sometimes I forget a few.**

Chapter 7: Secrets

Cass sat, legs outstretched on the love seat in a New York City hotel room, her attention transfixed at the sight of her husband feeding a bottle to the tiny baby nestled within the crook of his arm. Marco was an alpha male in the truest sense of the word; he had a dominate, competitive nature and was prone to being a perfectionist; one unable to accept weakness, especially within himself. He had a raw sensuality, that caused heads to turn, and members of both sexes to stop and regard him longingly. He was a big man, several inches over six feet, wide shoulders, his chest and thighs heavy with muscle. He kept his black hair cut short, the ends curling just above his nape and around his ears. His skin was a delicious caramel color, a wonderful contrast to his black hair and eyes the color of emeralds. He had told her, he must have gotten his green eyes from some long ago ancestor, as everyone else in his family had brown eyes.

"You're staring Cass."

The rough timber of his voice washed over her, sending flashes of fire throughout her body, and a strong desire to drag him off to bed swamped her. It had been a long time since they had been intimate, the realities of their life demanding so much of their attention.

"I'm staring, because I love you," she said, closing her laptop and moving it to the table. "And moments like these, are few and far between; at least for us."

She watched him move the baby to his shoulder, gently rubbing and patting the infant's back. Cass had broached the subject of having a nanny come in to take care of the baby; she had already grown so attached to him, she feared the results of the paternity test and what would happen to him if he wasn't Manoso's son.

"We could just keep him," she said, moving from the love seat, to sit at his feet.

"Is that what you want?" He asked her, his green eyes blazing with intensity.

He wanted Carlos Manoso to hurt, to suffer all the pain that Marco himself had felt. He made promises ten years ago, and he had every intention of fulfilling them, for himself, for his wife, for everything they had lost. He made no illusions about what they proposed to do; destroy everything connected with Manoso, and then destroy the man himself.

"Would you be able to look at him, raise him, love him?" She asked, reaching out to stroke one tiny little foot.

Like him, Cass felt the pain from ten years ago everyday of her life. She knew what her husband was, had from the moment she had been introduced to him. He was referred to as El Lobo Negro, The Black Wolf, and his organization was known throughout the world, as la manda de lobos, a weapons cartel that had passed from father to son, for five generations.

They had been petty thugs and criminals, scratching their way up through fear, intimidation and cunning. They had been ruthless in their business dealings, eliminating any who stood in their way, or thought to betray them. In the beginning, they dealt in drugs, guns, and human trafficking; they were making money, hand over fist, and building a network that would span the globe. With money, came power and then refinement.

"Maybe," Marco answered honestly. "You know blood is important."

Just when he was about say more, there was knock at the door. Cass reluctantly stood, a little furious at the interruption. He had been about to acquiesce, but now with their attention diverted, she knew he would take the time to shore up his defenses, and the baby's life would be in danger; again.

She opened the door to Raphael Cordelia, Marco's second in command. There was a time when she hadn't like Raphael, her feelings bordering on hate; but then one hellish night ten years ago, he saved her life. It had cost him an eye, and the hearing in his right ear, but it had earned him her respect and unwavering loyalty.

"I have the paternity test," he said, moving into the spacious room.

He gave her a quick hug, handed her a single, white envelop, and made his way to the love seat. A strange look passed between him and Marco, and Cass almost fainted dead away, when Marco handed Rafe the baby. It was a strange sight indeed; the big man, with a patch over one eye, a scar running from his hair line to his neck, holding an infant not three weeks old. It was moments like this, that reminded Cass, they really were human.

"The baby," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "Carlos Manoso is his father."

She opened the envelop, pulled out a single sheet of paper, and quickly scanned the information. She didn't realize she had been holding her breath, until it was forced out of her, leaving her slightly light headed. She felt Marco's hands steady her, then draw her into his embrace. She loved this man with everything in her, and she knew he felt the same.

"The baby," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "Carlos Manoso is his father."

"It's time," Marco said, his voice whisper soft.

Tears gathered in her eyes, she knew what they were going to do, what Marco had planned. She wanted the pain to go away, the bitterness, and the hatred, to dissolve into ash and scatter on the wind. She prayed silently for something to save them, but she believed God had disconnected the line; they were on their own.

* * *

"Bomber, they're all OK," Hal said, quickly reassuring her. "They were at Morelli's, helping the TPD and FBI. No one in the apartment building was seriously injured, just a few scraps and bruises."

Stephanie sagged against Ranger, relief overwhelming her, and the stress of the day causing her to shake uncontrollably. She felt Ranger's breath on her ear, as he whispered soothing words to her. She had no clue what he said, his voice sounding so far away, and it took a herculean effort on her part to beat back the darkness that swamped her.

Ranger led her to the sofa in front of the fireplace, gently pushing her down against the cushions and covering her with a blanket. She was so cold, so scared, fear for his son held her in it's grip, terror seizing her, because she didn't know what they were doing to him. Or what they had already done; these people were ruthless, he could be dead by now.

"We are going to get him back," Ranger said fervently, almost as if he could read her thoughts.

"How Ranger?" She demanded, her temper flaring, and her voice rising in accusation. "How are we going to accomplish that? We don't know who they are, where they came from, or where they're going. We are groping in the dark, blinded by the pain they've already inflicted. They did all of this, because they hate you; the rest of us are just collateral damage."

Stephanie saw Ranger stiffen at her words, his jaw clench, and his dark eyes go flat. She realized he was pulling away from her, burying his emotions behind a carefully constructed facade; one in which she was not invited. She saw him take a deep, controlled breath, walk across the room and disappear into the kitchen.

She looked around the room, surprised to see it empty of everyone, except Agent Kennedy and Tank. She couldn't tell what either of them was thinking, and to be honest she really didn't damn at that moment. She wanted Ranger to come back, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to apologize, and soothing things over between them, or rake him over the coals a few more times.

"Bomber, its his baby as well," Tank said, moving towards the stairs that led to the upper level. "And right now, he's beating himself for failing to protect his child."

With that said, Tank walked up the stairs, leaving Stephanie in misery for the things she had said to Ranger. She felt as if her world was falling apart, and she wasn't sure if there was any way to pull it back together. Tears ran unchecked down her face, and she felt the gut wrenching sobs she had suppressed all day, burst out of her. She sank to the floor, her body trembling, her heart shattered and her mind numb.

She felt strong hands lift her effortlessly off the floor and cradle her against a solid wall of warm muscle. She let the sobs consume her, her need to give into the fear, and pain overwhelming. She was only human; she couldn't be like Ranger, couldn't suppress her emotions so completely, as if they didn't exist. She needed more than he was willing or able to give, he had warned her, but she ignored him and took a gamble. She had lost, in more ways than she could ever have imagined.

"You're not Ranger," Stephanie said pulling back after the sobs had subsided, and found herself looking into the intense blue eyes of Agent Kennedy.

"No, hes not," came a low growl from the kitchen doorway.

Stephanie peeked over Kennedy's shoulder to see a bristling Ranger, there was something dark and deadly in his expression, and it made her heart race. He moved further into the room, and for one moment, Stephanie was reminded of a very large, very dangerous predator hunting its prey.

"Calm down Carlos," Dax replied, giving Stephanie a wink, removing her from his lap, and settling her onto the sofa.

"Don't tell me to calm down Dax; and keep your hands off the mother of my child," Ranger said, his tone flat and menacing.

"I wouldn't even think about going there," Dax said, giving Stephanie a dazzling smile.

Oh, you'd think about," Ranger replied. "You might even try your hand, but that would bode ill for you. I'd like us to still be friends when this over, but I'm OK killing you instead."

"Hey," Stephanie said, getting in between them. "Said baby's momma is right here, no need for a pissing match."

Stephanie heard a snarl bubble up from Ranger's chest, and she turned wide, stunned eyes on him. She had never seen him so jealous, in fact he had always been the exact opposite; cool and composed, as if he didn't care who she was with.

"Damn, if this is the way you act when you knock a girl up, its a wonder Rachel was ever able to remarry without you killing the guy," Stephanie remarked.

"You sure you want to go there?" Dax asked. Stephanie started at how still and quiet both men had gone. "There were reasons we kept silent; those reasons still exist."

"Keeping secrets, it hasn't stopped what we feared," Ranger replied. "I know this could cost you, your badge, possibly even your life. You can walk now, and no one would blame you."

"I'm not walking," Dax said, his voice low. "I didn't walk then, I'm not about to start any new habits."

"I get the feeling we are no longer talking about other guys hitting on the mother of your children," Stephanie said, trying to interject a little levity into a very tense situation.

"Child," Ranger said, his dark eyes swinging back to her, pinning her with an intensity that burned within their depths. "The mother of my child."

"I feel like I'm missing something, something really important," Stephanie said, unable to look anywhere but at Ranger.

"To use your term," he said, a very small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I only have one baby's momma. As of right now, Jose is an only child."

"Are you saying something has happened to Julie?" Stephanie all but shouted.

She closed what little distance had been between her and Ranger, and fisted her hands in his shirt. She liked Julie, and she couldn't bear the thought of some one hurting the little girl.

"Nothing has happened to Julie," Ranger answered.

"Then what are you saying exactly?" Stephanie asked, confusion once again swamping her.

"I'm saying, Julie is not my daughter," Ranger replied slowly, letting the words sink in.

"She's not your daughter," Stephanie repeated, unable to get her mind around what he was saying.

"No, she's not," he confirmed. "Her father is one Marco Azul, also known as El Lobo Negro; and the same man who has orchestrated the abduction of our son."

**Please let me know what you guys think!**


	9. Chapter 8: And Five Makes Ten

**Good morning, afternoon and evening to everyone. The next chapter is ready for your perusal. It is a little longer than the others, and once again not a whole lot of action.**

**Of course, I must say thank you for the reviews and hopefully you guys will continue to send them. Happy reading and I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 8: And Five Makes Ten

"Babe," Ranger said, in a low, husky voice, trying to regain Stephanie's attention; without much luck.

She continued to stand in front of him, mouth slightly open, eyes glazed, and hands fisted in his black shirt. He was beginning to worry that too much had been thrown at her in the course of the day, and her brain was shutting down in a desperate attempt to protect itself. He couldn't have her go catatonic on them; they were leaving in a few short hours.

"Steph," he tried once more, adding a little shake. There was no response; no blinking, no focusing of her eyes, no deep breath to replenish her oxygen supply, no tears, no screaming, nothing. The hands clutching his shirt were white, and so fiercely clenched, he feared trying to pry them loose. Her face was ghostly pale, all blood having drained away.

"Carlos," Dax said, a note of panic rising in his tone. "She's going into shock. You need to do something, and fast."

"I can see that Dax," Ranger replied, throwing his friend a dirty look. "Any suggestions?"

"I could get you some ice water," he replied, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Or maybe a good slap."

I'm not going to hit her," Ranger said outraged.

"Well, then you could..."

Ranger was done listening to Dax, the man was hell bent on getting him into some serious trouble with Stephanie. He had his own ideas, and he would try those first, before asking for that ice water. He leaned in, and very gently brushed his mouth against her's. She didn't respond, so he applied more force, more heat, more of himself into the second kiss.

His lips moved over her's, gentle, but firm. He caressed her bottom lip, took a small nip and then soothed over the spot with his tongue. Then his world exploded, as a blast of heat and desire buffeted him, as he felt Stephanie's hands open to splay across his chest. She opened her mouth, deepening the kiss, demanding more. He gave it to her willingly, plunging his tongue into her mouth, he heard and felt her deep, shuddering breath. Ranger continued to posses her mouth, the kiss no longer about reviving her, but of want, desire and a soul searing passion.

"...always kiss her, like her life depended on it," Dax said. Ranger slowly ended the kiss, pulled back at little, and stared into eyes that were still glazed, not with shock, but desire.

"He's going to kill him," Stephanie said, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes finally focusing on him, as tears began to gather.

"No," Ranger said, gently kissing away the single tear that rolled down her cheek.

"How can you know that?" She asked, her tone desperate. "Wouldn't this man want revenge, wouldn't he want to punish you, make you hurt?"

"We're going to give him incentive not to hurt Jose," was Ranger's fervent reply.

"You know this man." It was more a statement, than a question.

"Yes," Ranger said simply.

"Is he in that category of secrets that keep you from forging long term relationships, of having strings?" She asked.

"Babe," he replied. "He isn't in that category; he _is_ the category."

"Who is he?" Stephanie asked, not completely reassured that this maniac hadn't already killed her child. "Or am I still to be kept in the dark?"

"I promise you," Ranger said, lifting her chin so that he could see into her baby blues. "No more secrets, you'll know more about me than my own mother."

"There here," Tank said, coming down the steps, with Bobby and Hal on hot on heels.

Before Stephanie could get in another word, the front door was thrown open, letting in a blast of icy cold air, and five charcoal clad figures strode in. Stephanie had no idea who these people were, but it was apparent that the men did, as Tank, not breaking his stride, engulfed the smallest figure in a bone crushing, bear hug.

"Babe, we are going to need to leave soon," Ranger said. "Would you like to grab a little down time."

"Would that be with or without you?" She asked not missing a beat. "Of course, if you're too busy, I'm sure Dax would keep me company."

"Like hell he will," Ranger replied taking her mouth a hard, possessive kiss.

"We good now?" He asked.

Stephanie took comfort in the fact that he was breathing as hard as she was. It didn't matter that he was rock steady, and she was trembling in her boots; she could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, and see his pupils dilated with desire.

"Um, for now," she answered, patting him lightly on his cheek. "Now, introduce me to your friends."

When they turned, it was to find nine pairs of eyes regarding them with expressions that ranged from amused to openly curious. Stephanie felt embarrassed at having put on quite the show, and in front of Ranger's people no less.

"You know Tank, Bobby and Hal; you've met Dax, and know everything you _need_ to about him," he said, cutting his eyes to his friend. Dax gave him the mega-watt smile, it had been known to make women swoon, and toss there panties at him. It only made Ranger scowl, and there was never any possibility he would being throwing his underwear at the man.

"This is Avery, or as we like to call him, The Enlightened One; and I'll leave him to explain why that is," Ranger said, introducing her to a young man, whose hair was as white as snow. She took in his calm expression, the quiet air about him, and the tranquility on his face, and believed she knew why he had such a name.

"Ellis and Drake are brothers, though you would never believe it at first glance," he said, indicating two men who did indeed seem polar opposites, at least in physical appearance.

"Next is Venture, and since I can't say anything good about him, I will say nothing at all," Ranger said, bringing her to stand in front of a man that was in a word; ugly. She wanted to take a step back, any sane person would, be she stood her ground, and actually met his eyes. That was an experience she would like to forget, and never repeat as long as she lived.

Venture was of average height, and that was where anything resembling normal ended. His eyes were like to burning lumps of coal, and Stephanie was convinced she saw flames flickering in their depths. There seemed to be no humanity in his expression, and that scared the shit out of her. His skin was dark, very dark, but she didn't believe he was black, or African-American, or African; she was leaning more towards minion from hell. Scars covered his face, arms and hands; and there was one nasty scar that went from ear to ear, literally. His nose had been broken, and from what she could tell, more than once, and he was missing part of an ear. No smile graced his lips, and she was sure that if it ever did, the world would stop spinning on it's axis.

"It is a pleasure to have made your acquaintance," he said, his voice smooth and mellow, like a finely aged bottle of scotch. He took her hand in his, stroked it twice, and she felt the weariness drain from her soul. She heard Ranger chuckle, but she ignored him, her attention transfixed on the man with an angel's voice, and a bit of magic in his touch.

"Enough of that Venture," Ranger said, his voice still holding a note of amusement. "Like Dax, you can't have her."

"I know my friend, but you can't blame a man from hoping," he said as he released her hand.

"And this delightful creature is Hollis," Ranger said, bringing Stephanie to stand in front of the young lady that Tank had probably squeezed the stuffing out of.

Hollis looked amazingly small, and at first glance, Stephanie would have pegged her for a child, no older than eleven or twelve; that was until she looked into Hollis' cerulean eyes. From within their depths shown knowledge so old, that it bordered on ancient. The term, an old soul, jumped into Stephanie's mind, and she realized that described Hollis perfectly. She could tell Hollis knew things, felt things that no other human being could comprehend or empathize with. Stephanie instinctively knew that Hollis was dangerous, bordering on lethal, and she never wanted to be this woman's enemy.

"Do you have the package?" Ranger asked Hollis, as he tugged Stephanie to the large dining room table, where they others had gathered.

On the table were maps of various countries, and cities; blueprints of specific buildings, and three laptops, information scrolling on the screens at speeds impossible to read. Stephanie notice Tank, and Venture checking the contents of several, large black cases, and when she peeked around them, she saw enough fire power to take down a small army.

She quickly turned away, the sight of so many weapons making her nervous and uncomfortable. With her attention once again focused on Ranger, she saw Avery hand him a white book, edge with pink, and her curiosity was peaked. The book looked entirely to delicate and feminine in the hands of these two, very large, very dangerous men.

"This is a scrap book that Avery has painstakingly put together for the last ten years," Ranger said to her. There was something in his voice that she could put her finger on; some sort of emotion or memory that he seemed not to want to have.

"What is in the book?" She asked, hoping to divert his thoughts.

"It is a book chronicling the life of Marco's daughter," Avery answered, handing her the book.

Stephanie opened the book, her eyes skimming the pictures of Julie as a baby, no more than six months old. She had been a beautiful baby, with hair as black and glossy as a raven's wing, eyes the color of warm chocolate, and a smile that cold melt the hardest of hearts. The book detailed the life of the little girl over the past decade, showcasing her milestones, birthdays, vacations, and achievements. As she flipped through the book, Stephanie noticed, that the only other person in any of the pictures besides Julie, was Ranger.

"This book will be the incentive to keep Marco from hurting Jose," Ranger explained. "Marco believes that his daughter is dead, but once he receives this, he'll know otherwise, and he will doing everything within his power to find her."

"Possibly being willing to trade Jose for that information," Avery said, taking the book from her, wiping it down completely, and placing it in a plain brown box filled with Styrofoam peanuts.

"How will you get it to him, if you don't know where he is?" Stephanie asked, the surge of hope flaring in her voice.

"We may not know where he is exactly," Ranger replied, taking her into his arms. "But we do know that he is in the States, a very risky move for him, as he is wanted for various reasons by all most every major government in the world."

"Marco is a businessman," Dax said, joining the conversation. "He had business interests around the globe, some legal and some not so much. It has taken years, but we've managed to pinpoint one of his business fronts located in NYC."

"We will have the box hand delivered to his New York offices," Avery explained. "Once the contents is revealed, Marco will be immediately notified, and he won't be able to resist."

"It is only a start," Ranger said, moving them into the kitchen, away from all the preparations his team was making for their departure. "Marco Azul is a very intelligent, very driven man. He takes risks, challenges, but in reality he doesn't involve himself in anything he isn't confident in conquering."

"I know we don't have time for you to tell me all your dark secrets," Stephanie said. "But who are those people out there?"

"You know I am not just a security consultant, and bond enforcement agent," Ranger answered, leaning against the counter, and pulling her between his legs.

"I may have noticed there was a little more to you," she replied, her head titled up so she could see his face.

Ranger couldn't, or rather wouldn't resist the temptation of her mouth so close to his. If nothing else, the events of the pass day forcibly reiterated that life was fleeting, and you had to take what you could get, when you could get it. So he took her mouth in a soul searing kiss, one hand firmly gripping her hip, the other gently cupping the back of her head to keep in place.

She didn't know how he he did it, but Stephanie went up in ball of scorching flame, her clothes irritating her overly sensitized skin. He tasted like like chocolate, wicked and sinfully decadent; and she could get enough of him. She pulled at his shirt, freeing it from his pants, her hands stealing beneath the fabric, to splay across his chest. He shuddered under fingers, and she felt him firmly grasp her hips, bringing her firmly against the bulge barely contained behind his zipper.

"We can't," he said, wrenching her mouth from his, and moving her back a few steps.

"But I want to," she said, still in the grip of the desire that flared between them.

She was confused to as why he stopped; maybe it was the fact that they were in the kitchen, and there were nine other people just on the other side of the wall. Maybe he believed she was using him to bury the memories of Joe, trying to replace him with the first convenient male that happened along.

"Or maybe, he was thinking you gave birth to his son less than three weeks ago; and there was no way in hell your body was ready for what he had in mind," Ranger replied. "Not too mention, Bobby would have my ass if I exert myself too much."

"And what you had in mind would be too much exertion?" She asked, his statement easing her tormented thoughts.

"Most definitely," he answered, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and a sexy smile playing around his mouth. "If he knew what I was thinking, he'd been in here now drugging me into unconsciousness."

"Alright then, you stay over there, and I'll stay way over here," she said. Stephanie had forgotten how much pain he had to be in, and that only a few short hours ago, he was a guest in St. Francis' ICU.

"Your friends out there?" She said, bringing him back to their interrupted conversation.

"The ten of us make up an extremely covert, specially trained team, from various governments, with only one goal," he said.

"And that would be?" She asked, not wanting to assume to much.

"To bring down Marco Azul in any way possible," he stated. "The powers that be would prefer he be alive, but his death is just as acceptable."

"You're leaving out a lot, aren't you?"

"Yes," was his very simple reply. "Eleven years ago, a very rare opportunity presented itself to get some one not only into Azul's organization, but quite possibly into his very select inner circle."

"And that some one was you?" She asked.

Stephanie wondered what would make Ranger special enough to get that close to a very intelligent, very dangerous arms dealer. She knew he was specially trained, and damn good at what he did, but she was certain that others fit the same bill. Eleven years ago, he would have only been twenty, maybe twenty one; so he had been young and only in the military for a short period of time. She assumed that this Azul was of Hispanic descent, something else Ranger had in common with him, but once again, so did others. Others who were older, more experienced; more able to infiltrate an illegal organization, and fool it's leader.

"Yes," he said, looking intently at her. "This may change what you believe about me, how you see me and whether you really want to be anywhere near me. You see..."

"Carlos, you can't," Hollis said, coming into kitchen, followed by Dax and the brothers, Drake and Ellis.

"We are under direct orders to maintain the cover," Dax said, disgust evident in his tone.

"We may even be called to back down," Drake replied.

"He has my son," Ranger said, his voice going quiet, deadly.

"I know," Hollis said. "There is a new jackass in Washington who believes he has a better handle on the situation than we do."

"Avery asks that we give him and Venture twenty-four hours," Drake said. "They will get the book delivered by then, and he'll go in to see his father. He wants us to move immediately; to an undisclosed location."

"Um, who is Avery's father?" Stephanie asked, drawing all their eyes to her.

"His daddy would be none other than the Director of the CIA," Hollis answered, smiling widely.

**I had intended this chapter to give up all of Ranger's secrets, but I can't decided to have it done in a series of flashbacks, or for him to just tell the story in one fell swoop. So if you guys have any ideas, or preferences, let me know.**


	10. Chapter 9: Marcos Luis Slovarna Azul

**Hello all! I am sorry that this chapter took so long to post, but the characters were very uncooperative, especially Marco. I had not intended for this chapter to be as long as it is, but they were very insistent. No action in this chapter, but a few tidbits, hopefully you guys will think they are good ones.**

**Thank you for all your continued reviews and words of encouragement. I really try to respond to everyone who leaves a review as a way of saying thank you. Your reviews are the only gauge I have to how well the story is going and if you are enjoying it.**

Chapter 9: Marco Luis Solvarna Azul

Marco sat slumped in a large arm chair, his thoughts lost in a past that for him seemed like just yesterday. His gaze shifted to the gilt framed picture he was holding, a gift from his wife on their wedding day. The picture went with him everywhere, a constant reminder of a life that had ended first when his youngest brother was lost to them, and second when Mauricio died in his arms.

His eyes moved over the face of his youngest brother, a child with glossy black hair, large dark brown eyes, and a smile that lit up the world. He had adored the little boy, and rightly so, an unbreakable bond having been forged between them when he had to assist his mother in delivering the baby.

He had been so scared, only fourteen at the time, and alone in the house with his mother and sisters, as a ferocious storm raged around them. The baby wasn't due for a few weeks, but his mother had taken a tumble, causing her to go into early labor. It had been a frightening experience, one he would never forget, but when Marco had safely delivered the boy, he was overcome with an adoration that would go unmatched, until he held his own child.

His gaze then moved to his brother, Mauricio. The two of them were almost identical in appearance, the only noticeable difference being the color of their eyes. Marco's were a deep, mysterious shade of green, where Mauricio's were a dark brown, like warm chocolate, like pequeno's. He had lost both brothers, and the pain was so searing, it often left him anguished, and profoundly bereft.

Marco shifted his attention to the smiling countenance of his sisters, Catalina and Ilianna. They were twins, not that anyone would know as they looked nothing alike. Ilianna, even as a child, was small, graceful, and beautiful beyond compare. She shared the same dark eyes as their siblings, but unlike them, she didn't have dark hair, instead Ilianna's was like spun gold; just as his mother's had been.

Catalina had been a spitfire from the moment of her birth, with a wry smile, Marco realized she still was. She had often felt overshadowed by her twin's beauty, and had gone out of her way to gain attention; including one stunt that landed her in the hospital for two months. Somehow, she had managed to make it to adulthood, earning a degree in genetics along the way, and marrying the one man in the world who never looked twice at Ilianna.

It was a miracle that either of his sisters managed to turn into wonderfully strong women, devoted wives and adoring mothers. They had been just ten years old, when their mother and little brother disappeared, and they had been trapped in the house when it was set ablaze. The girls never talked about that night, and Marco could only guess what they had been witnesses to. After wards, they had been left unattended for long periods of time as their father became obsessed with his search for his wife and son. It had taken Marco two years to convince his father that the girls needed some one other than the servants to care for them. That stroke of genius had brought Cass into his life.

The rustling of fabric, and a small cry brought his attention to the bassinet sitting next to him. He sat up, peered into the bassinet, and was met by the steady gaze of a wide awake baby. Marco reached in, scooped up the boy and his blankets, resettling them into his arms.

"Ah, you want to hear about Cass too," he said. "You have good taste in women, pequeno."

Marco stilled, his eyes closing as pain and grief swept through him. Pequeno, little one; the nickname he had used for his youngest brother. He felt the baby's hand tighten around his pinkie finger, and he opened his eyes to look at the small bundle he held in his arms. The baby's hair was so soft and silky, a beautiful cap of obsidian strands that graced his small head. He wasn't as dark as Manoso, instead a smooth, creamy caramel, a perfect foil for his black as night hair. If genetics held true, then like his father and uncle, he would be a big boy, given more to brawn than lankiness, and he would have a face that would make angels weep with envy. His newborn eyes would change, gain focus and probably turn dark, but there was a small chance he would have his mother's eyes, eyes that Marco knew were blue as a summer sky.

"But you wanted to hear about Cass, and how fate threw her into my life," Marco said shifting the baby to his shoulder.

"I'm thinking he's more interested in eating," Cass said, walking towards them, a plain brown box in one hand, and a baby bottle in the other.

"This little guy does not need to hear how you coerced me into taking care of those hellions you call your little sisters," she replied, putting the box down on the table and taking the baby from him.

"As I remember it, you damn near bankrupted me before taking the job," he countered, watching as she settled onto the small couch across from him.

"I wasn't there for a job," she said, her eyes hot as she remembered the events that had transpired between them that day.

_Cass had finally decided to confront the neighbors, who were making it difficult for her grandfather to get some much needed peace and rest. He had been on the losing end of a battle with cancer, and the loss of her grandmother a few short months ago, had pretty much signaled the end. Her parents agreed, that he needed solitude, rest and some place quiet to die. They had purchased a beautiful, modernized villa, that came with a few acres of land, a gorgeous view of the Andes, and the neighbors from hell._

_She tried very hard not to take her frustration out on the elderly woman who answered the door, but the little old lady was like a pit bull, and before she knew it, Cass was in an heated argument with the woman. She had told the woman she wasn't there to disturb the young masters, just kill them, and that shouldn't disturb them too much, and she could do it without making too much noise or mess._

_The old dragon hadn't taken kindly to her words or attitude, and Cass began to think she'd be doing someone a favor if she got rid of the old bat, as well as the heathens from hell. She had been just about to leave, vowing to come back later; when she was stopped dead in her tracks, all the oxygen leaving her body in a rush._

_The man who came down the steps was beyond drop dead gorgeous; he was more like bring you back to life gorgeous. Big, heavily muscled, midnight black hair, and eyes the color of emeralds pinned her to the spot, causing all sorts of unwanted reactions to go through her. He hadn't looked pleased; in fact, Cass was certain she had worn that exact same expression an hour earlier._

"_Please tell me you are not here to interview for the open position," he said, sweeping her with a look of utter contempt. She wasn't aware that he had heard every word that had passed between her and his housekeeper. Cass felt her blood boil, as his arrogance hit her square in the face._

"_You couldn't afford me," she spat back at him. "Plus, I have no desire to work for someone like you."_

"_Someone like me?" He asked, his voice going soft, dangerous, and husky. She saw the burst of hot desire flare in his eyes, followed quickly by a body going hard with intent._

_Unable to stop herself, Cass trembled as his tone washed over her. Her over active imagination flashed images of him, commanding, naked and hard. She had to get out of here, had to get away from him before she did something she would regret; or maybe not regret. She turned blindly, her only thought to get out the door, back to the villa, to get as far from him as she could. But the door wouldn't open, no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't budge._

"_Are you afraid of someone like me?" He asked, one large hand keeping the door firmly closed, the other snaking around her waist to draw her against him._

_She thanked God that he couldn't see her face, couldn't see her cheeks go scarlet, or the desire that caused her eyes to darken. Cass could feel him pressed against her, not threatening, he wasn't trying to scare her, but her heart still pounded in her chest, and she knew that he realized the effect he was having on her._

"_I apologize for my behavior," she said, her voice raspy. "It was rude of me to take my anger out your housekeeper; if you release me, I'll go and not bother you again."_

_She would find a way to keep the noise of their ATVs from bothering her grandfather. It was only a few more weeks before she would return to the city, return to university; she could make it until then. After all, she had been here for six weeks as it was, and this was the first time she had actually seen one of the heathens._

"_But I don't wish to let you go, mi querida," he said._

_Marco knew he was playing with fire, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. The woman he held against him, was so soft, so beguiling, and he had no intention of denying himself, or her. She didn't know it yet, but he was going to make her an offer she would be unable to refuse; anything to keep her close, anything to make her his._

"_I am in need of some one to take care of my sisters," he said, turning her to face him. What he saw made him draw in a shaky breath. She wanted him, it shamed her, but she wanted him none the less._

"_I am not free to take an offer of employment," she responded, grateful that she would be returning to the city, and therefore unable to stay. "I will be returning to my studies at the university in a few short weeks."_

"_That is perfect," he countered. "I have enrolled my sisters in a private day school in the city, as well as leased a large apartment for them and their caretaker. You could attend your classes while they are at school. You would have a car at your disposal, a generous household budget, as well as a substantial personal salary. If that's not enough, I can also settle your university bill."_

_He had her, he could tell by the look in her eyes that she could not, would not refuse his offer. He knew nothing about her, didn't even know her name, but everything in him demanded that he chain her to him, and he never went against his instincts._

"You hadn't been there for a husband either," Marco said, drawing them both back to the present.

"Then I guess it worked out for both of us," she said with a smile. "You know we could try again?"

"Cass," he started, his voice strained. "It is a risk, one I am not willing to accept."

Marco picked up the box she had brought in earlier. It was addressed to him, in care of his New York office; but there was no return address, no stamps, no postmarks. He felt a frisson of apprehension slide through him. He had lots of enemies, lots of people who wanted him dead, and they would go to great lengths in their attempts to achieve their goals. He wouldn't put his wife in danger, and for reasons he wasn't ready to examine, he wouldn't put the baby at risk either; he would open it somewhere else.

"Rafe already had it examined for explosives, as well as contaminates," Cass said, having already anticipated his reaction.

"You both know me well," he replied with a chuckle, as he tore the box open.

Marco pushed gray Styrofoam peanuts out his way, and carefully lifted out a what looked like a white photo album trimmed in pink. He frowned, thinking that some one had made a mistake, and took another look at the box. It was addressed to him, no it was addressed to him and Cass; El Sr. y la Sra. Marco Azul.

He carefully opened the book, not sure what was inside, not sure he really wanted to know. The first picture had him cursing God, as a pain so deep took hold of him. It was a picture of his baby girl, the same one that graced a shelf in his office at home. She had been so beautiful, so like her mother, with her large, doe brown eyes, dark reddish brown hair, and a smile that could take your breath away. He drew his finger along the picture, across her cheek.

Marco was about to close the book, he couldn't look at pictures of his baby girl, she hadn't made it to her first birthday. Like so many others, she had died that night, the night from hell, the night of fire and rain. Mauricio had told him with his dying breath that Isadora was dead; that everybody at the villa had perished in the fire. One more sin for Marco to lay at Carlos Manoso's door.

He turned the page, expecting to see the same picture of Isadora, instead the page contained scenes from a birthday party. A dark haired baby, liberally streaked with cake and icing, smiled at whoever was holding the camera. The next page showed the same baby, a little older, surrounded by a large Christmas tree, and shiny wrapped presents.

Page after page, was filled with pictures of the baby growing into a cute little girl, chronicling the events in her life. First steps, first word, first day at school, vacations, birthday parties, and then a series of pictures with Isadora being held by Manoso, of him giving her birthday presents, of the two of them playing on a deserted beach. Marco saw red, fury building in him at what he had lost, at what Carlos had taken from him.

"Son of bitch!" He roared, making Cass and the baby jump. "I am going to kill him."

"What?" Cass asked, looking at him, suddenly afraid at the look on his face.

"Isadora," he breathed the name. His eyes locked with her's over the top of the baby's head. "He took Isadora; she is alive, somewhere our baby girl is alive."

* * *

Stephanie had decided to doze on the couch, not wanting to be alone, but desperately needing rest before exhaustion claimed her. Some one had draped a blanket over her a couple of hours ago, and after she had been asleep for awhile, she heard Ranger's quiet voice join the others as they continued to make plans.

Bobby had taken Ranger, and his black case to one of the bedroom upstairs. She had noticed that Ranger was beginning to look at little pale, and that his body would shake slightly, small tremors running from head to toe. It didn't take Bobby long to notice either, and when he grabbed his case, Stephanie saw Ranger follow him quietly from the room. That more than anything told her Ranger was hurting, and that made her hurt.

But that had been a few hours ago, and when she heard Ranger rejoin the group, she allowed herself to relax, and fall into a deeper sleep. She was plagued by dreams of her son crying, and her unable to find him. Someone taunted her, laughed at her efforts, and ultimately moved the baby further and further out of her reach, until his cries became distant, and then disappeared altogether.

She woke with a start, the sound of raised voices pulling her completely awake. Someone had stoked the fire, making the room comfortably warm. Stephanie opened her eyes, saw Hal stretched out on the sofa across from her, and Tank stuffed into a large chair with matching ottoman. Hal winked at her, bringing a quick smile to her lips.

"Carlos," Hollis said on an impatient sigh. "You risk a lot in telling her everything. You have a job to do, a obligation to your country."

"An obligation to my country?" Ranger asked, the tone sarcastic, hard. "This is a personal issue now, that madman has my son, and a grudge to settle, with me. Not my country, hell, technically I'm not even an American citizen."

"You know Avery took care of that," Hollis said, scowling ferociously at Ranger.

"Yeah, but only when they realized how it would benefit them," Ranger threw back at her. "I'm not even sure what name they put on my birth certificate."

Stephanie shook her head in confusion; what were they talking about? Ranger, not a American citizen? Not knowing what name was on his birth certificate? She knew he had secrets, that there were things she didn't know about him, but this sounded surreal. She stood up, seeing that Hal and Tank stood as well. Dax was standing at Ranger's back, slightly to the left, while Hollis stood in front of him.

"Carlos," she began, her expressive eyes wide with concern. "I don't know how hard this is for you, but one wrong move; we all know what one wrong move could do ."

"Yes Hollis, I know," Ranger said, taking her small hands within his, and then drawing her into his arms. "But Stephanie is a part of this, and I have to stop hiding, stop running."

"Ranger?" Stephanie asked, causing him to turn towards her. "Why wouldn't you know what name is on your birth certificate? Wouldn't it be, well your name?"

He gave her a crooked smile, a little shrug of his shoulders.

"Maybe, maybe not," he answered.

"Why?" She asked, determined to get a straight answer.

"Well," he said, his voice low. "Ricardo Carlos Manoso, died from complications of pneumonia at St Francis Hospital about twenty nine years ago."

**Alrighty then! If you have a chance, please leave a review, even if it is just one word. Every review is greatly appreciated!**


	11. Chapter 10: Blood Is Everything

**I apologize now if there are mistakes in this chapter. I had absolutely no time to proof it, and I really wanted to get it posted as classes start tomorrow and I will be swamped for a few days. I am also taking liberties with some aspects contained in this chapter, I don't know a whole lot about military structure, so if I got it wrong I am sorry. **

**There are flashbacks in this chapter and they will appear in italics. Once again thank you to everyone who left a review. Your words a very encouraging, and I hope you continue to be willing to share them with me. Enjoy and happy reading!**

Chapter 10: Blood Is Everything

"You're the same God damn bastard you were when we were kids," Dax swore, brushing pass his friend. "Whatever you name is, or where ever you came from, didn't change a fucking thing."

"Blood is everything," Ranger said, his voice low, his tone even.

"Now you sound like Marco, idiotic psychopath that he is," Dax muttered.

"You have to excuse Dax," Ranger said, his attention on Stephanie. "He gets bent out of shape over the smallest detail."

"Don't you fucking patronize me," Dax said, his anger evident in the stiff way he held his body, and the look of murder in his eyes. "Blood is everything my ass. If that's the case, then I should have left you there, maybe your brother would have forgiven you. More likely than not, he would have slipped a knife between your ribs and watched you bleed to death."

Stephanie watched in stunned silence, as an angry Dax stormed through the front door, slamming it so hard, it shook within it's frame and caused the windows to rattle. For the next few moments, the only sound in the room was the crackling and popping of the fire from the fireplace.

"I guess it is safe to say that Marco is still an issue for him," Hollis said, finally breaking the blanket of silence.

"That would be a safe assumption," Tank said with a grin. "I do so love seeing him get his panties in a bunch though."

"If you all would excuse us, Stephanie and I need to talk," Ranger said, looking pointedly at Hollis.

"I don't object to her knowing," Hollis replied, her eyes straying to the front door. "Just the timing of it all; some secrets should never see the light of day."

"Go talk to him," Ranger said, as he pulled her in for a quick hug and a light kiss on her forehead. "He's mad at me; besides he could never yell at you."

He watched as Hollis moved to the door, uncertainty in every step. He shook his head, thinking the past had really did a number on them, but what did he expect? The life they had decided to lead did not lend itself to warm and happy moments. Whatever happiness they had was fleeting, and never lasted beyond, a few moments in time.

Ranger looked around the room, only to find it empty of everyone except Stephanie. She stood patiently watching him, her blue eyes wary, her body thrumming with tension. She was absolutely beautiful to him, and what he felt for her was so strong, so powerful, it would not be denied. He would do anything for her, had already, when he took the life of a man who dared to hurt her.

He couldn't live without her in his life, but now the things he feared, the things he had tried so hard to bury, had come back to life in ways he never imagined. The darkness that was so much a part of him, that had shaped him into the man he was today, was reaching out and trying to pull her in. It would sink its claws in to her very soul, taint her and then destroy her. He wouldn't let that happen; one of them had to survive, and he was determined that it would be her.

"So Batman," Stephanie said, walking over to him and putting her hands on his chest. "Is it time to take the mask off, and introduce me to your altar ego?"

"I'd like to do more than introduce you," he replied, hauling her closer, brushing his lips across her's.

Stephanie felt the familiar kick of desire, and the slow build up of heat low in her belly. A small voice in the back of her head was insistently reminding her that they were not alone, and that this soon after having given birth, she was very fertile. She told the voice to shut up as she deepened the kiss, and small thrill of victory flared through her at Ranger's low moan.

"You do more than talk, and I swear to God, I will put you into a medically induced coma for the next week," they heard Bobby say. Stephanie's head snapped up, and she heard Ranger chuckle.

"Yes mother," Ranger replied, as he tugged Stephanie over to the couch. They shared a quick kiss and a smile, as Bobby cursed and muttered about the vile things he would do to Ranger when he got the chance.

"Steph," Ranger said, suddenly serious. "I'm sorry."

She looked at him, and her heart squeezed painfully at the anguish evident in his dark eyes. He blamed himself for everything that had happened, and she knew that he would never forgive himself, no matter how it all ended.

"If it was possible, I'd trade places with him; I'd die so you could have him back," he continued, his tone fervent.

"No," she replied, placing a finger over his lips. "I wouldn't want that, and neither would he. I'm devastated over his murder, and I will miss him, but I will never wish that it was you instead of him."

"I promise you, right here, right now, that I will move heaven and earth to get our baby safely back into your arms," Ranger said, taking hold of her hand and entwining their fingers.

"I know you will," she replied, tears building in her eyes.

She missed her baby, the pain deep, raw and agonizing. She missed the way he smelled, the warmth of his little body, the sheer pleasure of just holding him, and the magic in knowing she had created this beautiful being. She had created that life with Ranger in an unexpected moment of raw passion, when anger and jealousy clashed, and their building desire for each other had to be assuaged.

"You've never seen him," Stephanie said, realizing in that moment, Ranger hadn't met their child. "My God, you haven't had the chance to hold him, to look at him."

"Shh Babe," he crooned, wiping the tears from her cheek. "You know Morelli was a good man, I'd dare say he was a saint." He smiled as her tears stopped, and she looked at him in confusion.

"About a week ago, when your mother and sister took you out to lunch, Morelli called me," he said. "He knew there was a possibility that Jose was mine, he didn't like it, but he accepted it. He said I should be afforded the opportunity to get to know the baby; I accepted, and we spent an hour sacked out in the living room just watching him. It was a pretty damn good hour."

"I didn't know," Stephanie replied, shock evident in her voice.

"You weren't suppose to," Ranger said. "It was going to be mine and Morelli's dirty little secret."

"I didn't know he was capable of that," she said. "Capable of that kind of compassion, understanding and foresight."

"As I said, he was a good man."

"And you still think he was better for me than you," she said, gently caressing his cheek, her fingers gliding over the stubble that hid an ugly bruise.

"Babe, look at where you are," he replied, his eyes beseeching and desperate. "I live in shadows, surrounded by darkness and secrets."

"I didn't pick Batman on a whim," she said with a sly, sexy smile. "But I must say, you have skills the wing crusader would envy."

"And better toys," he grinned.

"Ranger, why is this man trying to destroy you?" Stephanie asked.

"God, I don't even know where to begin," he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes for a moment.

She could tell he was exhausted, and probably in a fair amount of pain. She felt a little guilty pushing him to talk now, to spill his secrets; but she needed to know, if not for herself, then definitely for their son.

"Why don't you begin with Selena," Tank said, dropping into one of the large club chairs, stretching his legs out on the ottoman. "If it hadn't been for Selena, we wouldn't be sitting here now."

Ranger closed his eyes, and sifted through the memories of a life time, his mind going back eleven years; to a place where he knew exactly who and what he was. No secrets, no doubts, no need to hide from deranged psychopaths, or fear what they might do to the people you loved. Back to a time when he was just Ricardo Carlos Manoso.

* * *

"_Carlos! Carlos!"_

_He turned at the sound of a name he hadn't heard for what must have been close to three years. Since he had joined the Army, he was Manoso; but he was home and here he was Carlos._

"_Look at you," the young man said, striding up and clasping him in a bear hug. "Army Special Forces, and Army Rangers."_

"_Like you have any room to talk," Carlos replied, stepping back to look at his friend. "Air Force Special Tactics; I am impressed."_

"_Of course you are squirt," the man said with a ready smile._

"_So Enrique," Carlos said, as they started up the walk towards, Auntie Benita's House of Burritos. "Heard you had to get married; a quick shotgun ceremony."_

"_Yeah," Enrique replied, looking at little sheepish. "Lena's dad was a little pissed, and her brothers weren't to pleased, but it worked out in the end."_

"_Congratulations then," Carlos said. "I'm happy for the both of you."_

"_It isn't all good," Enrique said quietly._

"_What's wrong?" Carlos asked, concerned by his cousin's tone._

"_Selena, my little girl, has leukemia," Enrique answered, his voice rough with suppressed emotion._

"_Oh God Enrique," Carlos said. "I'm sorry to hear that. This can't be easy for you guys, especially given that your specialized training has you moving to different bases frequently."_

"_Pretty much," Enrique acknowledged. "Once Selena was diagnosed, we agreed it would be best for them to return to Miami. I hate being separated from them, but Lena needs a strong support system, and all of our family is here."_

"_Selena is going to need a bone marrow transplant," he said. "The cancer hasn't gone into remission following the two rounds of Chemo she's been through. Her doctors say her best chances now rest with a transplant. The whole family is getting tested, even Poppy, but so far no ones a match."_

"_I can get tested," Carlos offered. "We're family, you never know where you might find a match."_

"_Thank you Carlos," his cousin said, once again overcome with emotion. "I knew you'd help once you found out, but I wanted to ask you myself."_

"_You said Poppy was getting tested," Carlos replied. "What about Dax?"_

"_Dax is still not talking to me," Enrique answered, a hard look stealing into his dark eyes. "Actually, he's not talking to anybody. Won't accept calls, not even from Poppy."_

"_Well to be honest," Carlos said. "What did you expect?"_

"_Look, everybody knew it wouldn't work," Enrique snapped, miffed because he was being made to feel like the bad guy. "That is everybody except Dax Kennedy. Its water under the bridge, he needs to move on and accept it. There's nothing he can do to change."_

"_All I'm saying is, you hurt him," Carlos said. "But let's not talk about that right now. Let's get something to eat, and then you can give me the details about where to go for testing, and catch me up __on the family."_

_

* * *

_

__"So Selena was your cousin?" Stephanie asked, when Ranger stopped talking, a look of sadness in his warm chocolate eyes.

"Yes," Ranger replied, his voice low and pained.

"By all of your somber expressions, I'm guessing a match was not found," Stephanie replied, looking at the three men, their faces' drawn with grief.

"Selena was my niece," Bobby said quietly. "Everyone was devastated when she died just before her fourth birthday. Her mother, Lena slipped into a deep depression, and Enrique, my brother turned to alcohol."

"Selena's death tore them apart," Ranger continued, when his cousin was unable to say any more, his voice chocked with tears. "They eventually divorced, Enrique was medically discharged from the Army, and Lena took a job in Australia, trying to get as far from home as she could."

"Enrique's alcohol abuse grew worse, and he became very bitter," Bobby interjected. "My parents had to take some drastic actions to help him, and even though he is no longer drinking, he is still very bitter; and to this day, he blames Dax for what happened."

"Why would he blame Dax?" Stephanie asked perplexed.

"Babe, that's Dax story," Ranger replied, bringing her fingers to his mouth. He gently pulled her closer to cradle against his side. He needed and wanted the contact with her; the next few days were going to exact a heavy toll on them, and he wanted to reassure her they could and would make it through this.

"OK, so I now about your young cousin Selena," Stephanie said, looking between Ranger and Bobby. "But how does that tie in to what is happening now?"

"At Enrique's behest, I registered with the Bone Marrow Donor Registry," Ranger answered, shifting slightly so that he could look in her eyes. "Everyone in our family did."

"But none of you were matches," Stephanie rejoined.

"No," Ranger said quietly, "At least not for Selena anyway."

* * *

"_Mr. Manoso?" The young woman asked._

_Carlos looked at the woman standing on the other side of the door to his Aunt's home. He raised one eyebrow in silent query, while he took her in from head to toe. She was pleasing to the eye, with long blonde hair and guileless blue eyes. She wasn't as tall as he generally liked his women, but he could overlook that in face of her buxom figure._

"_Sergeant Manoso," he corrected._

"_I'm sorry," she said with a small smile._

"_Don't worry about it," he said, opening the door to join her on the porch. "How can I help you?"_

_He watched her blush, and he had to wonder how innocent she really was. He wasn't currently in a relationship, and he would be state side for the next few weeks; they could have a really nice time._

"_My name is Anna Richards," she said, offering him her hand. Carlos took her hand into his. "I'm from the Bone Marrow Donor Registry, I wanted to talk to you about being a donor."_

"_I'm a match for some one?" Carlos asked, a little surprised. He knew that he had not been a match for his cousin Selena, and he had actually forgotten about the registry._

"_Yes, you are," she replied. "We had previously tried to reach you by mail, but to no avail. We are hoping that you would agree to the next round of testing to determine how good of match you would be."_

"_Sure," he said agreeing quickly; anything to be able to spend a little more time in her company. "What do you need me to do?"_

"_I have what we need with me, if you are amiable," she said, placing her case at her feet._

"_Then do your worse," he replied giving her a toothy grin._

_It didn't take her long to draw three vials of blood, and swab the inside of his cheek. She was quick and efficient, causing him no pain. He watched her package everything up, label it and pack it into a box._

"_How long will this take?" He asked as she placed a Superman bandage on his arm._

"_Only a few days," she replied, packing away all her supplies._

"_Would you have dinner with me?" Carlos asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer._

"_I'd love to," she replied, once again blushing._

__

_

* * *

_

"I'm sure we can leave out your romancing of the Miss Anna Richards," Stephanie said giving Ranger a pointed look.

"It was many years ago Babe," he chuckled.

"So, you were a match for some one," she said, making sure she had followed his story correctly.

"Yes," he replied. "Bobby there was actually a match for three people, but we can't all be as accommodating as he is."

"What happened after the second test?" Stephanie asked him. "And your date, or dates with Miss Richards."

"Babe, do you really want to know about Miss Richards?" He asked, one eyebrow raised. He laughed at her withering look.

"Just finish the tale," she said softy.

* * *

"_Sergeant Manoso, we are glad that you were able to join us."_

_Carlos looked around at the people sitting at the table, and quickly went through the events of the last few weeks trying to pinpoint where he may have done something to draw the attention of his commanding officers. _

_He recognized his CO, Captain Reed and Captain Daniels; Miss Richards was sitting across from him, nervously tapping her pen. This wasn't good, it was so not good. The four men standing were definitely government officials, and if he was reading them correctly, he would guess CIA. _

"_We are here concerning your match through the Bone Marrow Registry," one of the suits said._

"_You would all forgive me, if I am a little confused as to why so many are concerned with my possible donation," he said to the room. He didn't like being cornered and he felt very cornered in a meeting that was suppose to be about an anonymous donation._

"_According to the records and the information that Miss Richards have provided us, you were a first round match to a young boy diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia."_

"_To be honest sir," Carlos said turning to face the man he was sure in charge. "You seem to know more than I do. All I was aware of , was being a possible match. I was not apprised of any other details."_

"_Very well then Sergeant," the suit replied. "I'm going to ask Dr. Frazier here to explain the details of the results from all your testing."_

_Carlos turned to look at the small man who had been sitting next to Miss Richards. The good doctor was extremely nervous, and Carlos could empathize with him._

"_Sergeant Manoso," the doctor said, opening a folder in front of him. "After we ascertained that you were a possible match for a patient on the international registry, we obtained the second samples from you and tested them to further determine your compatibility with the young boy. To our surprise we found out that you were a perfect genetic match."_

"_That's a good thing right?" Carlos asked._

"_Well as far as being a perfect donor for the patient, yes," the doctor answered._

"_So," he said turning back to the suits. "How does this involve covert government agencies?"_

"_The patient you are a match for, is the son of a man wanted by many governments around the world," the suit explained._

"_And you want to use this as leverage against him?" Carlos asked, beginning to understand what was going on._

"_Actually this goes deeper than that," the suit said with a smile. Carlos could tell the guy liked him, and that made it all a little easier for him to stomach. "Doctor, please finish explaining to the Sergeant exactly what your testing uncovered."_

"_When we say you are a perfect genetic match for this patient, that means you are a blood relation."_

"_Other than my cousin Selena, I don't have any relations who are sick with leukemia," Carlos said, a feeling of apprehension creeping up on him. "And, I have no relatives, or at least close relatives that are not in the United States. I may have some very distant cousins in Cuba, but that would be it."_

"_Please doctor, finish," the suit said. "Tell him everything."_

"_Sergeant," the doctor said, once again fidgeting. "You are not only a blood relation to this young boy, but you are a close relation; father, brother, or uncle. Once we had that information, we did some extra testing, and you are not related to Selena Cardenias, at least not through blood."_

_Carlos felt as if the room was spinning, and he was sure that he was no longer hearing things clearly, as the sound of his blood roaring through him made his ears ring. This doctor was telling him, he wasn't a Manoso, that he was instead related to some people in another part of the world. People the government wanted to get their hands on._

"_We want your help Sergeant Manoso," the suit said. "I am hoping that you will not only agree to be this boy's donor, but that you'd be willing to let the doctors tell his family what they have found out."_

"_If I'm not Ricardo Carlos Manoso, then who am I?" He asked, a sick feeling in his gut._

"_We believe you to be a relation of the man known as El Lobo Negro," the suit explained. "If the tests are accurate, you are Mateo Alejandro Solvarna Azul; the youngest brother of Marco Azul."_


	12. Chapter 11: Demons and Devils

**I apologize for the long delay in the posting of this chapter. School has started and with everything else going on, it has taken me a lot of time to get this chapter finished. Hopefully in the future that won't be the case. Reviews help to keep me going, and you guys are the greatest when it comes to leaving a little note, or feedback; so by all means, keeping it coming! I'll be quiet now, so you can read.**

Chapter 11: Demons and Devils

Hollis stood on the back porch of the safe house, indecision making her stomach roil and tie itself into painful knots. Dax made her crazy with a desire that burned deep and hot, he also made it plain that he wasn't interested in her; but for some stupid reason, her heart didn't quite get the message.

Her eyes were riveted on the barn, lit up like a beacon, a beacon for stupid women chasing men who didn't want them. Well that was good, cause she obviously had the premier platinum membership in that club, especially as her traitorous feet carried her to the closed door. She didn't understand what compelled her to continuously put herself into the path of a man, a very dangerous man, who was more likely to kill her than kiss her. One that would never love her.

She pushed the side door open, and stepped into the large room that was currently being warmed by several heaters. Venture and Dax had completely renovated the barn several years ago as a form of therapy after a mission gone horribly wrong; it had helped the two of them heal and come to grips with what they had seen and done. Hollis knew that the first level contained a large open area, with a compact kitchen in the southern corner. There was also an office, small bedroom and bathroom to round out the first floor.

Empire State of Mind blared from unseen speakers, signaling to Hollis that Dax was in a dark, dangerous mood. He had once told her that the rap he listened to made him feel alive, made him feel like he could face his demons, even if he couldn't beat them.

Hollis stayed to the shadows, needing a moment to get her thoughts and feelings under control. Dax was suspended from the overhead beam, his gloved hands gripping the loops of braided rope, his muscles rippling as he held himself aloft. She had fallen a little in love when she had met Carlos Manoso, and then she fell head over heels when she was introduced to Dax Kennedy; too bad for Hollis, that Lena Cortez had gotten to him first.

Dax had stripped down to his black boxer briefs, and Hollis had to love the fact that these men had absolutely no modesty. He had worked himself into a frenzy, sweat covering his body, and making his blond hair appear darker. He was all sinewy muscle, toned to perfection, and when he smiled, flashing his dimples, you couldn't help but be captivated. He was perfection, or at least he had been, before they had scarred him.

When Hollis looked at his back, she felt red hot anger swamp her, and it made her want to kill the person who had inflicted him to such pain. The scars were long healed, a series of whip marks from his shoulders to just above his knees. Mauricio Azul had been a lucky man when it was Carlos who had found him first, she wouldn't have wasted a bullet on him; Hollis would have killed him with his own whip.

She watched him for awhile as he punished his body, pushing himself to exhaustion and then a little bit further. She knew he was lost in a haze of memories, past events that had been both painful and pivotal. He had survived the traumatic birth that had claimed the life of his mother and twin brother. He had been adored and coddled by his father and late mother's family, but when his father remarried and moved them to Miami, he had felt deserted and alone. Dax said he hadn't been use to sharing his space, his father, and his life; and because of that, he said his stepbrothers tormented him relentlessly. She ached when she thought about how lonely and ostracized he must have felt, growing up, fair, blond and blue eyed, within the midst of a large Latino family.

"I know you're there Hollis, I can smell you."

Hollis was jolted from her thoughts, completely unaware of the fact that Dax was no longer doing pull ups while suspended fifteen feet in the air. She noted that he had slipped on a pair of jeans, and he was currently wiping the sweat from his upper body and hair with a fluffy black towel. She would pay good money to freeze time and stay like this with him.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," she replied, stepping from the shadows. "Although, I'm sure it wasn't meant as one."

"Um," was his only reply.

She watched him stalk to the kitchen, a large, dangerous predator, and she had to question her sanity for being here. She had made a promise not to torment herself, to let go of this obsession with Dax Kennedy and find some one or something else to occupy her attention. It was a promise she was finding damn near impossible to keep.

"So," he said, once again interrupting her thoughts and startling her out of her reverie. "You were sent to unruffle my feathers."

"Well, you do have to admit that you are a tad sensitive," she said, hoping humor would cajole him out of his current black mood. He looked at her, his eyes hard, jaw firmly set and brows drawn together in a fierce scowl. Nope, humor was not going to do it.

"I'm sorry to be ruining everyone's happy reunion," he quipped sardonically. "Maybe if you had left me there, everything would be fine and peachy keen."

"You would have died," she replied, her voice low and tremulous with the hurt his words had inflicted.

Dax wanted to feel sorry for the pain he knew his words caused her, but he could not, he would not; not for this woman. He had used her, relentlessly, unremorsefully, for seventy two hours. He had lost himself within the haven of her arms, driving himself forcefully into her body over and over, until the betrayal of his family, his friends was a distant memory.

She had touched him like no other woman ever had, not even Lena. Hollis had met his passion and insatiable desire with her own ferocity, keeping him enthralled with her for those three days. He hadn't been able to willingly walk away from her, not until she was asleep and unaware of his leaving. He had convinced himself that he would forget about her and what they had shared, until she had appeared out of the darkness like an avenging angel, and carried him from Marco Azul's compound.

Hollis made him vulnerable; she had seen him at his weakest, and that knowledge would be a barrier between them for all times. His body was scarred, his heart belonged to another a woman, he was damaged goods, no sane woman would ever want to tie herself to him.

"My dying was suppose to happen," he said, looking at her pointedly.

Hollis knew that was a jab at her. She was the one who had found him, she was the one who had stabilized him, and she was the one who had carried him out of that godforsaken hell hole. He had wanted to die she realized, and as far as he was concerned, she had fucked that up. No wonder he hated her, and did everything to avoid her company. Well fuck him then, if that was the way he wanted things, then she'd be damn if she would do anything to change his mind.

"Well," she said, drawing herself up to her full height. "You didn't die; so deal with it. I hear the choppers; it's time to go."

* * *

At Marco's words, Cass felt her whole world tilt, and then crash in a cascade of anger and bitterness. She fought back against the shock, the disbelief, standing she walked to the table where her husband was shaking with rage. She looked at the book, the page turned to one of a little girl, maybe seven or eight, smiling at the camera, her brown eyes warm and shinning with happiness. She felt the sweet, inexplicable warmth of a mother looking at her child. This smiling pixie of girl was her daughter, her Isadora.

She felt the warm bundle in her arms squirm a little, and Cass had the foresight to put the baby back into his bassinet; she didn't want to risk dropping him as emotions tumbled through her. Denial and hope were raging a fierce battle within her, so much so that the anger had begun to ebb, enough to allow her to look at the album from the beginning.

Her Isadora had been a beautiful baby, and looking through the pictures, Cass could see that she had turned into a beautiful girl. Isa, as the family had taken to calling her, would be eleven, almost twelve; a girl on the brink of becoming a young lady. She had missed her daughter's childhood, Carlos had taken that from her, and once again she felt the hot white flare of anger build within her. She wanted him now with a vengeance that burned to her very soul, and the thought that he had been within her grasp, made her blaze even hotter.

"I am going to kill him," Marco said through gritted teeth.

"No, you won't," Cass said, her voice deadly calm.

Marco's eyes snapped to her face, and his eyes widening at the look of sheer murder on her features. Cass had been his partner in every aspect of his life, accepting that a lot of what his life entailed was dark and illegal. Before their marriage, she had informed him that she was no trophy wife, and she expected to be fully involved in all his businesses, that she would never tolerate any infidelity, and she would never be financially dependent on him.

She was a very dangerous woman, skilled in several forms of hand to hand combat, an excellent marksman, as well as being a competent long range sniper. There were times when his wife had managed to scare the piss out him, and given the life he led, that was saying a lot.

"Carlos has crossed many boundaries," she said, her eyes alight with an unholy fire. "I could have forgiven him for most of his transgressions; even taking my daughter; but allowing me to believe she was dead, to bury her, to grieve her passing from this world to the next, to never have that empty feeling assuaged."

Cass stopped, choking on the emotions that clogged her throat, desperately fighting the tears that threatened to fall. Marco gathered her into his arms, his body absorbing the tremors that shook her, his strength keeping her upright. He couldn't stand to see her in pain, her emotions raw and bared for the world to see; it made him ache, it made him burn to destroy the source of her hurt.

"An eye for an eye," he murmured into her ear, stroking back the silky strands of her hair. "I will make Carlos Manoso pay for the pain he has brought to our family, for the pain he has caused you."

"But what about you Marco?" She asked, pulling back to look at him, her brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "What will happen to you when you destroy the man who is also the younger brother you so loved, the brother you missed every day until he walked back into your life?"

She gazed at him, seeing the devastation, the utter destruction of his life as it flashed in his beautiful green eyes. This wasn't the life he had envisioned for himself, his siblings, any of them. He had wanted to get rid of the illegality of his family's life and businesses. Marco Azul had the intelligence and business acumen needed to build an financial empire from the wealth that his father, grandfather, and grandfather had amassed. But one family tragedy after another had managed to keep him mired in the drug deals and gun running that had made the Azul's one of Columbia's wealthiest families, and one of it's most dangerous.

"That Marco is gone," he said quietly, his eyes closing forever on a dream that would never be. "Like so much dust on the wind, so too are the dreams of men."

She heard the door to the room open, and glanced over Marco's shoulder to see Rafe enter, dressed in all black, two large duffel bags in each hand. She knew what those bags meant, and the tears she had managed to hold back, began to flow silently down her cheeks.

"Don't cry mi novia," he said, gently kissing the tears from her face. "Continue with our plans, you know what to do next."

And with that, he kissed her hard, lighting a firestorm through her body; slipped from her arms and walked out the room.

* * *

Stephanie sat in stunned silence as the words Ranger had just spoken washed over her. He was Marco Azul's younger brother, Mateo Aljeandro Solvarna Azul. The madness that she had been plunged into was the work of Ranger's brother, his own _brother. _What kind of brother lures you into a trap so you could be tortured, damn neared killed, murders a cop and kidnaps a baby that _might_ be your son? And as if that wasn't enough, he has the body of the man you consider your brother, left in the basement of the house you were later found in. She was in a nightmare being wrought by the very devil himself; and she now understand what Ranger meant when he said he wasn't relationship material.

"Steph," he whispered trying to turn her so he could see her face.

"Ranger, I think I'm going to need a minute or two," she replied, moving from his arms and getting off the couch.

She had felt him stiffen when she moved away from him, and when she darted a quick look ast his face, she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. Part of her wanted to immediately go back and comfort him, and the other part wanted to grab Tank's gun and shoot him several times. How in the hell could he keep something like this a secret? It was monumental, and life changing. He had a mad man hunting him for Christ's sake! A mad man who was, IS his fucking brother!

"I know it's a lot to take in," he said, struggling to get off the couch.

"No," she said putting her hands up as if to ward him off. "Don't move, don't come near me. I'm not sure I can handle this, not sure I _want_ to handle this."

Stephanie knew he was in pain, and she could tell that pain was getting hard for him to ignore. His skin was clammy, and he was beginning to sweat a little. He was taking shallow breaths, one arm wrapped lightly around his ribs, the other gripping the sofa arm so hard it hard turned white. She heard Bobby swear as he went to get his magical black case.

"Babe," that single word drew her eyes to his face as nothing else could. "I'm not asking you for anything, I don't need you to forgive me, or to accept that this is who and what I am. I promise to get Jose back to you, and if you walk away after that, then that is something I not only can understand, but will have to accept."

She watched as Bobby started performing his magic on Ranger, syringes and vials stacking up haphazardly on the floor as he used them. She managed to hold back a gasp when Bobby lifted Ranger's shirt, and unbound his ribs, revealing the blackest bruise she had ever seen. He quickly replaced the patches with fresh ones, and then bound the ribs tightly once again.

"Give it a few minutes boss," Bobby instructed him. A look Stephanie couldn't decipher passed between the two of them, and then Ranger lifted his dark gaze to her.

"Steph, there's more," he told her. "A lot more."

"It's going to have to wait," Avery said, striding in the room, with Venture and Hollis on his heels. "Choppers are here, and I've just received word that Marco is on the move."

With those words, everyone in the room was galvanized into action, packing up necessary equipment and wiping all traces of them from the house.

"Carlos," Venture said, closing his phone. "Rafe is with him."

"Shit," Ranger replied.

"What does that mean?" Stephanie asked, feeling the tension in the room ratchet up several notches.

"That means Marco is on the hunt," Dax answered from the doorway.

"And that would make me prime target number one," Ranger said into the silence.


End file.
